Quoth the Raven
by Quatermass
Summary: (From whitetigerwolf's "Animagus Lover" challenge) Forced to forsake his freedom to save his friends, he was sent to Azkaban, only to escape as a raven Animagus. Becoming the companion of Sawyer and trapped within the bird, Harry became known as Vincent, but is forced to reveal himself to save Sawyer. But when his betrayers come calling, Vincent and Sawyer will be ready...
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

Goddamned plot bunnies. After doing my first Potterverse crossover with _Black Lagoon_ , _Disquiet_ , I found myself wanting to do another story shipping Harry with Sawyer the Cleaner. But I couldn't figure out a story, until another challenge by whitetigerwolf, the Animagus Lover, along with sakurademonalchemist's Bruja, provided the spark. This one, while still dark, is not quite as bleak as _Disquiet_ , and probably will have more humour. Plus, it has an admittedly-overused Edgar Allan Poe quote, but it fits.

Anyway, time for the usual disclaimers. Firstly, there will be spoilers for both Harry Potter and _Black Lagoon_.

Secondly, there will be heavy annotations, as is usual for my works. You have been warned.

Thirdly, this is an M-Rated work. There will be coarse language, violence, very dark themes, racial slurs and sexual references. Again, you have been warned.

Finally, the following is a fan-written work. Harry Potter and _Black Lagoon_ are the properties of their respective owners. Please support the official release. Otherwise, Revy will shoot you full of holes…


	2. Chapter 1: Cleaner and Raven

**CHAPTER 1:**

 **CLEANER AND RAVEN**

People look down on scavengers in the wild, those who make a living off the remains left behind by others. But this is actually something to be admired. It is the scavengers who make use of what was discarded, cleaning it up and converting it into something new. They are the unwanted but necessary cogs of a wonderful natural machine.

In human society, too, scavengers and carrion feeders are considered to be at the bottom of the ladder. And yet, they fulfil a role in society. In criminal society, cleaners are considered a necessity. They clean up the messy business involved in murder. Sometimes, they are even called upon to do the deed themselves, to send a message in messy mortal remains.

In a place like Roanapur, a town infamous as a den of vice and violence, cleaners are a necessity. And a rising star in the field is one who, while an independent operator, does much of her work for the local Triads. Not that most people know her. She almost invariably meets her clientele and victims dressed in surgical scrubs, like some back-alley surgeon. Though most back-alley doctors are in the profession of extending life, whereas the cleaner generally did the opposite.

Her name was Frederica Sawyer, though she was mostly known as Sawyer the Cleaner. Most of her clients didn't even know she is a woman. Then again, she wasn't the most social of people. Even when she walked abroad, free of her scrubs, she didn't like to draw that much attention to herself, beyond her fashion choices. That wasn't to say she didn't want a friend. She just didn't know how to go about it. The nearest thing she had to a friend was the Taiwanese assassin Shenhua, and she hadn't seen Sawyer beneath her scrubs.

Being a cleaner was a lonely profession by default. And Sawyer's past meant that she was doubly so. She was damaged goods, and it was hard to make a connection with others. But soon, she would find a connection in the most unlikely of places…

* * *

If people considered Sawyer's interests in film, TV and literature, they would think that her tastes ran to the worst excesses of horror and crime thrillers about serial killers. This was not wholly true: she actually read a wide variety of books and watched a variety of TV shows and movies. It was partially a function of her dark childhood: she had frequently read to escape to other worlds, something her otherwise apathetic mother encouraged.

That being said, she enjoyed reading horror stories and watching horror films. One of her first experiences with horror movies was sneaking in to watch a showing of _The Shining_ , and while she would later consider the original Stephen King book to be superior, there was no denying that Stanley Kubrick knew how to keep atmosphere up. That, and Jack Nicholson was fucking terrifying.

Though in retrospect, Nicholson had nothing on her father. At least Nicholson was paid to act like a psycho. With her father, there was no acting involved.

As much as she enjoyed the blood-soaked viscera in many horror tales, she also liked less blood-soaked and more disquieting, disturbing tales. While she didn't like the dry writing style and racial attitudes of HP Lovecraft, there was no denying that the man knew how to create horror. Some of the stuff Roald Dahl wrote for adults was surprisingly horrific(1). She also enjoyed some of the great Victorian horror novels, like Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein: The Modern Prometheus_ , or _Dracula_ by Bram Stoker. And there were, of course, the works of Edgar Allan Poe. _The Pit and the Pendulum, The Tell-Tale Heart_ , and, of course, his famous poem _The Raven_.

She actually liked ravens. Sawyer thought them magnificent and intelligent, even if they were, like her (figuratively), carrion-eaters. Ravens and crows were amongst the smartest of birds. And they were considered harbingers of death, and even of gods. The Norse god Odin was said to have a pair of ravens, Huginn and Muninn, 'Thought' and 'Memory', heralds and spies who brought him news from across the world. In Greco-Roman mythology, they were the heralds of Apollo and considered good luck. The ravens of the Tower of London were also considered good luck, and if they ever left the Tower of London, the Kingdom of England would perish. In the Pacific Northwest of North America, the Raven is revered as creator and trickster by the indigenous peoples of that area.

Of course, in Roanapur, birds of all kinds were considered target practise by the trigger-happy population. Ravens and crows were considered pests, and people thought nothing of shooting them. Sawyer found that irritating, but could do little, though one time, when she was brought one rather annoying man who liked to shoot those birds to make an example of, she took her time dismembering him.

One particularly hot day in a Roanapur spring, Sawyer had come back home from groceries shopping (her apartment being an adapted office in the meat-packing factory that she ran as a cover for her true business) to find a raven squatting near her door. She frowned. It didn't look injured, but it looked exhausted, even starved. In fact, if she didn't know any better, it wasn't a species of raven native to Roanapur. Not that she was any kind of ornithologist, but she had a feeling. Plus, it had a weird white patch above one eye, like a lightning bolt.

It opened one eye blearily at her, and she was struck by its colour. Again, she wasn't an ornithologist, but she was sure no raven had emerald eyes as clear and as beautiful as those. The raven croaked weakly, plaintively.

After a moment, Sawyer opened the door and walked inside, noting with curiosity that the raven didn't startle and try to get away from her as she approached. In fact, as she walked inside, the raven managed to get to its feet and hopped inside before the door closed. She wondered briefly is its exhaustion and starved look was an act, but she noticed it sagging. Either the raven was a good actor, or it really was in a bit of a bad way.

Sighing quietly, she walked further through, wondering if the raven would follow her. After getting her shopping dealt with, she fished around in the fridge for some diced meat which she put on a plate, and then filled a small bowl with water. She retraced her steps to find the raven not far from where she left it. Silently, she placed the water and food down in front of it, almost like a votive offering.

The raven seemed surprised, before it went, surprisingly, for the water first. After a quick drink, it then attacked the meat hungrily. Judging by the way it did so, it hadn't eaten for some time. She even had a brief concern that it might choke, a surprising sentiment for an animal she had only just met, an animal she had fed and watered on a whim.

The raven soon finished, washing down its hasty meal with more water, before it looked at her with, she thought, a look of gratitude. It croaked a couple of cries that oddly had a sound of gratitude to them. Almost as if it was saying thanks.

Sawyer found that oddly endearing. While generally a rather shy and distant woman, she wasn't immune to whims, especially outside of her professional life. And while she normally wouldn't be in the habit of taking in stray animals, there was something about this raven that intrigued her, piqued her interest.

A smirk came upon her features. Ravens were heralds of death. Maybe she could add to her mystique by having this one as a pet, visible when she received her clients.

With that, she fished out her electrolarynx, and pressed it to her scarred throat. In her Cyberman-like buzzing tone, she rasped, " _I think I will keep you. But first, you need a name._ " She considered it, before she hit on a perfect name. " _Vincent._ "

There were a few reasons she chose this name. The first was that St Vincent of Saragossa, a Christian martyr she had read about, whose corpse was actually defended by ravens from wild animals trying to devour it. Supposedly, his grave and the shrine built over it was guarded by ravens for a long time, and even his body, when transferred to Lisbon, was escorted by a flock of ravens. The second and more obvious reason was after Vincent Price, the famed horror movie actor who had appeared in adaptations of Poe's works.

The raven in front of her seemed to consider it, before it croaked in what sounded like assent. It flew into the air, and landed on her shoulder. Or at least it tried to. It unfortunately fumbled the landing, either out of weakness from starvation or clumsiness, and crashed to the tiled floor with a squawk of annoyance.

Sawyer sighed quietly. Well, she should have known there would be something…

* * *

One of the few things he remembered from his past life was something one of his friends once talked to him about. Everything else was a distant fog, even his own name. But he remembered a bushy-haired girl telling him something that confused him at the time, and confused another friend of his.

" _Zhuang Zhou, a famous Chinese philosopher, once dreamed he was a carefree butterfly, flitting around, ignorant of his time as Zhuang. But he woke up, and remembered the dream. He wondered whether he was Zhuang, having just finished dreaming he was a butterfly, or a butterfly, beginning to dream about being Zhuang._ "

At the time, he had dismissed it as confusing. It sounded like something another girl would have said, a girl whose name he couldn't quite remember, but had something to do with the Moon. But now, with it being one of the few scraps of his past life he could remember with any clarity, it struck home.

It had been a year since the betrayal by those he saved, since he managed to flee the cold stone walls and the demons that patrolled them. Since he fled a country filled with the ungrateful and the capricious. He had slain the monster, and had been called a thief, a murderer, a monster in his own turn.

A deranged fragment from a song he had heard wormed its way through his mind. _Is this the real life, is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality_.

He didn't know exactly where he was. He had been travelling for so long, trapped in the guise of a raven, that a lot of his past life, assuming that wasn't delusion, had been lost in fog. He was fairly sure that he was in Thailand, and a rather dark part of Thailand too. It was a city filled with sin. And yet, this young woman had shown him kindness on a whim when he had hopped into her home, hoping to try and steal some food and water.

She was dressed in a style that could have been considered goth fashion, with a short plaid skirt, a dark shirt with a cross symbol on the front over a long-sleeved jumper that went right up to her palms. He would soon learn that the sleeves concealed scars from what appeared to be self-harm. Her face, framed by a messy mass of dark hair, was pretty, even beautiful, but had a strangely flat, apathetic look to it, not helped by her dull blue eyes, ringed by dark circles that spoke of stress and sleeplessness.

Most noticeable of all, though, was the ragged scar across her throat. A perverse choker of scar tissue that spoke to an injury that could have killed her. Instead, as he learned, it had robbed her of her voice, forcing her to resort to a mechanical mockery that nonetheless seemed as part of this macabre-looking woman as her clothes.

The smell of death was all around her. This was a woman who killed. Being so intimately linked to death allowed him to discern that. And yet, there was something within her more than that. A light within the darkness, some small spark behind those dull, dead eyes that had never gone completely out.

If he was a man dreaming of being a raven, and not the other way around, then perhaps it was time for the man to die in his sleep, and let the raven take his place. A small connection had been made between himself and the woman, and he was grateful for it. He thought about the name she had christened him with: Vincent. Yes, that sounded nice. A lot better than the name that even now only occasionally peeked out from the fog.

A lot better than Harry.

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So…Harry's a raven now. And has become Sawyer's pet. Oh my. I thought that whole Zhuang Zhou thing was perfect for an Animagus who had submerged himself too much in the animal he had turned into.**

 **Now, before you guys say anything, there's probably going to be little, if at all, bashing, at least of the more heroic characters of the Potterverse. Ron and Hermione hadn't betrayed Harry, the Ministry and Gringotts had done so. And yes, they were idiotic enough not to place Animagus suppression charms in Azkaban.**

 **Choosing Harry's name as a raven was actually a little tricky. I didn't want to go for the obvious route of Odin's ravens. I considered using 'Matthew', after Matthew Cable, the character from** ** _Swamp Thing_** **who, after he dies, becomes one of the ravens within the Dreaming in** ** _The Sandman_** **. I even considered Poe, for obvious reasons, before I settled on Vincent for the reasons stated above.**

 **And, of course, the lyrics mentioned above come from** ** _Bohemian Rhapsody_** **by Queen, which I don't own.**

 **1\. No, really! He wasn't just a children's author, he wrote a number of short stories for adults too. Dahl also wrote the screenplay for** ** _You Only Live Twice_** **.**


	3. Chapter 2: Metamorphosis

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **METAMORPHOSIS**

Over the next couple of weeks, Vincent became a fixture in Sawyer's place of work. She half-expected the raven to eat parts from the bodies she worked on, but he seemed to have a distaste for human flesh. That was odd, but far from the oddest thing about him.

After all, when she revved up her chainsaw for the first time, he didn't try to fly off. In fact, he cringed, and placed his wings to his head in a cartoon-like gesture akin to a human covering their ears from the noise. She didn't even think ravens could do that. And yet, Vincent did. And when he did crap, he did it either over drains, or while perched on the toilet. It made her wonder whether Vincent was once a domesticated raven. Maybe a pet that one of Roanapur's crime bosses imported, but had mistreated. Or maybe his owner had died, and Vincent had no skills to survive in the wild, even in urban areas. He did sometimes fly off through an open window in her apartment for a couple of hours, presumably to exercise his wings, but always returned.

Vincent helped add to her reputation, to her _legend_ , which was part of the reason she had adopted him. Although at times, it felt like the other way around. But ravens' association with being heralds of death helped lend an edge to her mystique as one of the most feared cleaners of Roanapur. Vincent seemed to understand this. Some of her more nervous clients (of those that brought the bodies, living or dead) had been spooked thoroughly when Vincent chose to caw at just the right moment. He even got someone once to piss themselves, which was funny.

Of course, Shenhua was due to come today. She had been dealing with another job on behalf of Mr Chang, the leader of the local Triads, so she hadn't been able to come and see. Of those Sawyer associated with, Shenhua was the closest to being called a friend. The Taiwanese assassin, despite her profession and broken English, had a cheerful and friendly nature to those she liked. When she wasn't on the job and didn't feel insulted, she was pretty likeable.

Though whether she would like the new addition to Sawyer's household, such as it was, was another matter…

* * *

Vincent watched as the door to Sawyer's…workplace opened. He had already made his peace with the fact that Sawyer was a cleaner, one who dealt with the deceased, or the soon-to-be. In that far-off murky dream of life he once had as Harry Potter, he may have objected to it. After all, there was something about her that reminded him of a woman by the name of Bellatrix. But Harry Potter had died in the dreams of a raven. No, he had died earlier than that, when the people he had saved had turned on him, and locked him up in Azkaban when the Horcrux in his head was learned about. Not to mention those Death Eaters he had killed during the final battle.

No, he was fine with her. She had shown him friendship on a whim, adopted him. Broken called to broken, and while he could not make contact with his old friends ever again, he could make new ones. Well, as much as he could as a raven.

Through the door, an extraordinary figure came through, dragging a massive suitcase. It was a tall Asian woman in a Chinese qipao dress, with a short white jacket over it. She was surprisingly buxom for an Asian, and the dress was slit right up to her hips, showing off an impressive amount of leg. Her long dark hair fell across half of her face, which was elegantly made-up. She seemed like one of the more expensive prostitutes one would probably find in Roanapur, save for the fact that she had a band on her leg with holsters for small throwing knives. That, and her deceptively friendly demeanour masked the manner of what Vincent knew to be a predator.

"Hi, Sawyer! I early this time! You okay with that?" she asked in broken English. Sawyer, decked out in scrubs, nodded in acknowledgement. "This moron snitch for Italians. Chang say make mince out of him for spaghetti bolognaise." As she let the suitcase drop on its side to the floor, Shenhua noticed Vincent, and peered at him. "Huh? You have pet bird? Crow? Raven? He have name?"

Sawyer nodded, and then went to a nearby blackboard which she used to communicate with her clients, as her electrolarynx could possibly be clogged up with mess when she did her work. _His name is Vincent_ , Sawyer wrote.

"Ah, Vincent?" Shenhua asked, before strutting over to Vincent. "Hi, Vincent! I'm Shenhua! You beautiful bird. Beautiful eyes. You look after Sawyer, yes?"

Vincent nodded his head, and Shenhua smiled. "You smart bird. Okay, Sawyer, I leave moron with you and Vincent. Enjoy!" And with that, the Asian woman strutted out, waving a friendly goodbye, leaving a helpless man to Sawyer's ministrations…

* * *

In the evening, after dealing with the detritus, Sawyer was sitting at a table, reading, while gently stroking Vincent on his head, Arthur Brown's _Fire_ playing in the background. After a moment's thought, she began speaking, not with her electrolarynx, but just whispering quietly, using only the breath in her lungs and her tongue and lips to shape the words. She did this to Vincent, and he seemed to understand.

" _Shenhua was right. You're a beautiful bird, Vincent_ ," she whispered. " _I wonder, what brought you to me?_ " She looked into his emerald eyes. She could not deny the intelligence in them. " _I would call it divine providence, but…I don't believe in God. Few in this town do. If God exists, then they are apathetic at best, and a capricious and malicious deity who enjoys suffering at worst. I prayed to God to save me from my father many times…but they did nothing. I don't believe in karma, either, just consequences. That man earlier…he fed information from the Triads to the Italians. The Italians are supposedly itching to get to the top of the pile here, wrest it from the Triads and the Russian mafiya._ "

Vincent emitted a noise that could have been a disdainful scoff. Sawyer echoed it. " _Yeah, I know the feeling. Balalaika is ambitious, true, but like Chang, she prefers stability for the most part. But Verrocchio…he just wants to be top dog. I wonder…are you an omen, Vincent? I heard in Celtic tradition that crows and ravens are heralds of war deities like Badb and the Morrigan. I hope not. I like having you around._ "

Vincent seemed to roll his eyes, and Sawyer smiled. " _Yes, I know, stupid feeling_." After a moment, she came to a decision. " _I'm going out for a drink at the Yellow Flag. I'd ask if you'd want to come, but…well, I don't think that'd be a good idea. They make birds target practise here._ "

Vincent seemed a little morose at her decision, but seemed to understand. So, Sawyer closed her book, and went to have a shower and dress herself for a night on the town…

* * *

Vincent couldn't help but have a bad feeling about tonight. He knew Sawyer could handle herself very well on the streets of Roanapur, even without her scrubs. But he had this odd premonition about tonight. So, after she left, he made for the nearest open window (it was high up to deter any would-be burglars) and flew out, wending his way through the Roanapur twilight towards the Yellow Flag.

Through Sawyer talking to him, Vincent had learned a few things about Roanapur, including the chequered history of one of its most popular bars. The Yellow Flag had been established by an ex-soldier from South Vietnam, Bao, and soon became the favoured watering hole of many a malcontent. Fights using fists and guns were frequent, and Bao was said to wield a shotgun to deter most.

Many recent gunfights had been started by a woman of considerable local renown known as 'Revy Two-Hands'. She was a Chinese-American woman who was known around Roanapur as the hired gun of Dutch, the boss of the Lagoon Company. The Lagoon Company were a small group of mercenaries whose only other member was a hacker by the name of Benny. They generally did courier jobs, smuggling illicit items for the various criminals in Roanapur. Drugs, weapons, they even engaged in piracy on occasion. Lately, they had been accepting more jobs from Balalaika, the leader of the local Russian mafiya, known locally as 'Hotel Moscow', especially after being stiffed by one of the minor crime bosses, Chen.

Anyway, Revy was known for a hair-trigger temper and an itchy trigger finger. She had been trained in gunplay by Mr Chang, the most frequent customer of Sawyer's services, but was independent of the Triads. She was ridiculously skilled with using a pair of handguns, one in each hand, hence her cognomen of 'Two-Hands'.

Revy, he was sure, was one of those who had taken a potshot at him when he first arrived in Roanapur. He remembered a sexy-looking part-Chinese woman wearing a tank top and daisy dukes, an elaborate tattoo on one of her shoulders, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail. In revenge for shooting at him, he had dumped his shit in her eyes, and had been amused at the plethora of curses she emitted.

As he settled on a palm tree near the entrance to the Yellow Flag, he saw Sawyer walking in. However, he saw a quartet of people walking up. The first was a burly black man wearing sunglasses. The only hair on his head were his eyebrows and a beard. The second was the very woman he had shit upon. The third was a blonde-haired man with an unshaven face and glasses. The fourth looked Asian, and oddly enough, had a rumpled suit on, sans jacket. White shirt, dark trousers and a tie. He also looked afraid and out of his depth, a young businessman who was now amongst the scum of the Earth.

"…Might as well have a drink while we wait for Balalaika to call," the black man said in a bass rumble. "Don't start any problems, Revy."

"Yeah, yeah, Dutch, I'll be cool." The young woman's English held a strong Brooklyn accent.

So it was Revy who had shot at him, which meant that these four, or at least three of them, were the Lagoon Company. The Japanese was out of place, so he had to wonder why he was here. Still, he couldn't resist another bit of retaliation against Revy, so, with a caw, Vincent swooped out of the darkened skies and shat on Revy's hair.

"GAH! Motherfucking crow! That's the second time one's shit on me!" Revy snarled. "I'll bet it's the same feathered bastard who shit in my eyes! Feathered freak's stalking me!"

"Calm down, Revy. Next time, in future, don't take potshots at animals who aren't attacking you," Dutch said.

"Fuck you, Dutch, how else am I gonna keep my eye in? I've got a new policy: any goddamned crow I see, I'll shoot pre-emptively! They're evil fuckers!"

From his new perch in another tree, Vincent deliberately cawed in a way that sounded like laughter. Revy snarled, "There, you hear that? The black-feathered fucker is laughing at me! You hear me, you evil little shit? You'll be laughing through the new asshole I shoot through you when I see you again!"

The Lagoon Company walked in, Revy wiping the bird shit from her hair as she did so. Vincent waited for a while. He hoped that his premonition was purely paranoia.

But then, about ten minutes later, a group of what looked like soldiers in camouflage moved up, led by a blonde man with sunglasses and a scar that snaked its way up his cheek. He had a bloodthirsty grin on his face. Mercenaries, Vincent thought with a chill. After lighting up a cigarette with a Zippo lighter, the man took a couple of grenades, and then roared, into the bar, "It's time to get this party started! Here's a present for you shitbags!"

Vincent was too late to stop the man from hurling the grenades into the Yellow Flag, paralysed by horror though he was. But the ensuing explosion, and what it could have done to Sawyer, spurred him into action.

He had sat by while someone he liked died. He remembered the face of his godfather, of a werewolf and a shapeshifter, of so many who had perished. It was what had killed the man…no, it wasn't. It was what killed the boy.

The man had slept within the raven. Vincent had thought that the man had died in his sleep, but the sleeper was awakening. He didn't care about the others in here, but Sawyer, if she hadn't been killed by the initial grenade attack, needed him.

So he swooped down behind the soldiers, who were more busy about threats from the front. Well, victims, really. They didn't see the raven shed his feathers and become the Master of Death once more…

* * *

Sawyer cursed silently as she dove behind the bar, chainsaw at the ready. Nearby, Revy 'Two-Hands' (who had come in wiping bird shit off her hair, complaining about vindictive crows) and the Japanese whom she had been having a drinking contest with dived for cover as well behind the bar, while Bao reached for his shotgun and returned fire against the soldiers. "Dammit, Revy, what the hell are your friends doing shooting up my bar?!" Bao snarled.

"Not my friends, Bao, never seen them before," Revy said. She then looked at Sawyer. "Hey, spooky, are you any good with that thing?"

Sawyer reached for her electrolarynx, and pressed it to her throat. " _I can manage_ ," she buzzed.

As Dutch called out to Revy and Benny, Sawyer considered the situation. Could she make her way out? She might need to team up with the Lagoon Company, at least to get out of the bar alive. After that, she would make her own way back home. She could use the chainsaw to deflect bullets, true, but grenades were another matter, and they'd only need to get a lucky shot to hit her, or flank her.

It soon became a moot point when they suddenly heard what sounded like something bursting into flames. And judging by the sound of screams accompanying said flames, what was burning might be people. Sawyer poked her head above the bar to find those mercenaries looking behind them as three of their number burned.

"Hey, who the fuck are you?" snarled their leader as a ragged figure walked through the doors.

He was a scarecrow of a man, thin and scrawny, clad in rags that barely qualified as clothing. His hair was a tangled black mess reaching his shoulders. In fact, some of his hair looked like black feathers. He had glasses askew on his stubble-marred face, behind which emerald eyes burned with fury and insanity held barely in check. And half-hidden by his fringe was a faded scar, not unlike a lightning bolt. And in both of his hands burned a fire that looked diabolical, like it didn't belong on Earth.

And when he spoke, it was little more than a loud rasp, a parody of a voice long-disused, like the croak of a carrion bird with an English accent, but it managed to carry across the room.

"I am the god of hellfire!" he snarled. "And I bring you… ** _FIRE!_** " With that, he flung the fireballs at the mercenaries, unleashing a wave of diabolical fire that consumed them, their screams shut off in seconds, before the flames died down, leaving little behind but ashes.

Sawyer stared. Emerald eyes…a scar that matched that weird colouration…quoting the opening of the very song she had been listening to shortly before coming here. And the fact that his hair seemed to be partly comprised of black, glossy feathers.

Their eyes met, and something flashed in his own. He knew he had been recognised by her. He fled into the darkness outside. Sawyer got up and dashed outside, only to hear nothing, save for a possibly-imagined sound of wings. She didn't know whether to be angry or astonished or grateful.

* * *

When she got back home soon afterwards, she half-expected to see him there. Instead, she got a note confirming what she suspected.

 _Sawyer,_

 _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to deceive you. Thank you for everything you did for me. I hope you find someone to be your friend, someone better than me._

 _Vincent_.

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry has revealed himself to Sawyer while saving her arse, and Revy has gotten shat on. Let's face it, Revy's a cool character, but she's also a bitch with a hair-trigger temper who causes more problems than she has to. I don't hate her, but she's not going to have a good relationship with Harry in this story. And Rock will still have his badass moment: Extra Order still sends the chopper at them when they go to bring the disc to Balalaika.**

 **Now, unlike** ** _Disquiet_** **, Sawyer is NOT going to be Bellatrix's lovechild or indeed related to anyone in Magical Britain. Doesn't mean there aren't other people with connections to the wizarding world in Roanapur…**

 **Incidentally, the lyrics come from Arthur Brown's** ** _Fire_** **. I don't own them, obviously.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	4. Chapter 3: Shenhua, the Mediator

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **SHENHUA, THE MEDIATOR**

Shenhua was walking home from taking Leigharch to a doctor when she saw a shape land on a nearby wall. She almost reached for her throwing knives, only to realise it was a bird. In fact, it was a familiar bird. Even in the light from a nearby streetlight, those green eyes were distinctive before they snapped shut. The bird seemed to be hunched in a somewhat depressed way. It even convulsed in a way that seemed almost like sobbing.

Shenhua, bemused, crept closer. The bird didn't seem to notice her approach until she reached out and stroked its head. It opened its eyes and looked at her, before recoiling, hopping away long the wall, cawing at her.

"Hey, hey! I not hurt you, Vincent!" Shenhua said. "It okay!" _For fuck's sake_ , she thought to herself. _I'm talking to a bloody raven. It's like I'm trying to calm down someone who's freaking out_.

Of course, it was Shenhua who freaked out, albeit briefly, when the raven warped and rippled, and then changed into a wild-haired man with the same eyes, dressed in ragged clothes, hunched over on the wall. "Leave me alone!" he snarled, before he leapt off the wall and dashed into the night…only to trip over a bottle someone had left on the footpath, smacking his head against the very wall he had leapt off as he went down.

Shenhua rolled her eyes, before going over to the man. Her initial surprise and fear had been replaced by bemusement. And not at his ability, either. _You spent so much time as a bird, you forgot how to run like a man_ , she thought. She grimaced at the smell from his clothes as she carefully checked him, before nodding. As luck would have it, a back-alley doctor whose services she occasionally used was nearby. It was that doctor whom she had taken Leigharch to. The stupid Irishman who acted as her driver at times had burned himself badly after accidentally setting himself on fire during one of his drug-induced episodes. Even now, he was babbling like Hunter S Thompson after a big binge…

* * *

"Dogs fucked the Pope, no fault of mine…Watch out!...What money? My name is Brinks…" Leigharch babbled in the depths of his hallucinogenic fugue(1). Shenhua knew he usually stuck to marijuana or cocaine(2), but sometimes Leigharch liked to mix things up, and the results were usually disastrous. Even now, he tended to end up on Mars when he smoked marijuana, thanks to the damage done to his brain by drug cocktails, and Shenhua knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn't come back.

The back-alley doctor, an older, sunken-eyed man by the name of Dr Troughton(3), pursed his lips as he examined Vincent. "Chronic malnutrition, a minor concussion…" he muttered. "He's not in a good way, but frankly, he's in better condition than that idiot."

"Chocolate dice!" Leigharch shouted(4).

"Can't you tell him to take it easy on the drugs?" the doctor asked.

Shenhua shrugged. "You lead horse to water, but you can't make drink. Right?"

The doctor nodded wearily. "Incidentally, I need to ask, why are there raven feathers in his hair?" he indicated Vincent.

"Incident involving superglue and Leigharch," Shenhua said, hoping that would allay the doctor's suspicions. "Leigharch thought it funny to glue feathers to hobo."

Troughton nodded, before walking over to Leigharch, and slapping him. "Ow! Heh heh heh…lick the red chalk, it's delicious(5)!" the Irishman babbled.

"I think I have some decent clothes for him," Troughton muttered, looking back at Vincent. "He looks about my size, aside from looking like a scarecrow. I'm guessing that's why you brought him in? Because Leigharch hurt him while in that state, and when you went to apologise, he hurt himself?"

"Yeah. But he friend of Sawyer."

"Sawyer?" the doctor asked. "I didn't know she had any. Then again, she mostly keeps to herself."

Shenhua now blinked. She hadn't actually realised Sawyer was a woman, though given the concealing scrubs she invariably wore at UG Pork, it was hardly surprising. Then again, the figure was a bit short and slight for a man, so it shouldn't have been surprising that Sawyer was a woman. "You know Sawyer?"

"She comes here sometimes for a check-up, apparently on your recommendation. She's a rather shy young woman," Troughton said. "And a rather dark past, if those scars are any indication. I personally think she needs a confidant, but she's a bit wary. Personally, you would make a good confidant, Shenhua. She doesn't speak much, she needs a device to talk, but when she does, we discussed you. Maybe she's found another in Vincent."

Shenhua looked down at Vincent thoughtfully, especially as she saw the lightning bolt-like scar snaking out from beneath his fringe. Then, as the ragged man stirred, she said, "I talk to him alone."

Troughton, recognising when he wasn't required, said, "I'll go and get those clothes. Do you want me to treat Leigharch elsewhere?"

"If you want."

"I AM CAPTAIN GORDON FREEMAN OF THE INTERGALACTIC HOUSE OF PANCAKES ORDERING YOU TO OPEN!" Leigharch bellowed as his gurney was wheeled away out of the main clinic area by Troughton(6). Then, as a parting shot before the door closed, he mumbled, "Carrot juice, carrot juice, vworp vworp, carrot juice…(7)"

Vincent groaned as his eyes flickered open in pain. "What the hell is wrong with that guy?" he asked, his voice a croaking rasp.

"How long list you want?" Shenhua said. She gently placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Don't get up. You have concussion. And that mean you can't do transformation. Not without messing up. I know you Animagus."

Vincent blinked, and then stared at Shenhua. "Are you a witch?"

Shenhua snorted. "No, I not witch. I am…how you say in English? Squib, I think. I Squib. Parents ex-leaders of magic Triad in Taiwan. Long story. Now…why you with Sawyer?"

Vincent looked up at her, before he said, "I… It was wholly unintentional. I hadn't been able to change back from being a raven for months now. She fed me, and was kind to me, so I stayed with her. But then, when she was in danger, I managed to change back."

"In danger?" Shenhua asked. She had heard an explosion from the direction of the Yellow Flag.

Vincent nodded. "She went to some bar, the Yellow Flag or something, only for these goons in camouflage to start shooting things up. I had this premonition that there'd be trouble, so I followed her. Normally, I don't, I don't want to be seen as a stalker. I wanted to save her, so…I changed back, and set them on fire. But I realised…she recognised me. I don't know how, but I'm sure she recognised me. So I fled."

Shenhua peered at him. "You not peek at her while in shower or toilet? You not want to hurt her?"

"Of course not!" Vincent snapped.

"Then why you flee? You coward? Sawyer like you. Okay, she…No-Maj, I think. Oh, you British call her Muggle. But Statute of Secrecy lax around here. This Roanapur. And she like you. I think she forgive you. Or take chainsaw to your limbs."

"Thanks for the reassurance," Vincent muttered.

"It fine. I go see her while Leigharch comes back from Mars. I know her longer than you. I smooth things over…"

* * *

Sawyer didn't know what to think. After reading the note, which almost had the air of a suicide note, she curled up into a ball, hugging herself, on her bed in her apartment. She usually only did that when she lost her electrolarynx, or when something triggered the memories of her past. In a way, the note had done that. It reminded her of the suicide note her father forged, claiming it to be from her, before slitting her throat.

True, she had been somewhat angry at the deception, that somehow, Vincent was a raven who could turn into a man…or the other way around. But on the other hand, he had saved her life, setting those damned mercenaries on fire. Not only that, but he had listened to her as she spoke. Growing up, she had nobody who would listen to her, save for her broken mother. Not that that did much. And with her voice gone, she had become voiceless. She withdrew within.

She missed his companionship already. Despite falling into her life seemingly by accident, he had managed to find a way into it. And now he was out of it.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer on the factory floor. _Go away_ , she thought to herself. _I don't want to see anyone, and there's no jobs scheduled_.

Distantly, she heard Shenhua calling, "Sawyer! Sawyer, open up! Want talk with you! No job, just talk!"

 _Go away, go away, go away_ , Sawyer chanted in a deranged mantra.

But she wouldn't. Sawyer eventually decided, if there was anyone she could talk to about tonight's events, it'd be Shenhua. Even with her lack of communication with the Taiwanese assassin before, she had felt the strongest bond with her out of all of her clients.

She briefly considered donning her scrubs, before deciding not to. If only to see what Shenhua's reaction to her true appearance was like.

* * *

Shenhua was on the verge of going to find a way to break in when the door opened, and a rather upset-looking young woman of indeterminate age opened the door. She looked to be anywhere from her late teens to her mid-twenties, with a messy mop of dark hair framing cute features, though her dull eyes looked both bloodshot and tired. She was dressed in goth fashion, as Troughton noted. And there was the perverse choker-like ring of scars around her neck.

After a moment, Shenhua said, "It good to meet without scrubs, Sawyer. Can I come in?"

Sawyer, after a moment, nodded reluctantly, and let Shenhua enter. Sawyer led Shenhua through her workshop to a small canteen that was used by the meatpacking factory, back when it was fully staffed. She then fished a rod-like device from a belt, and pressed it to her throat. " _Why did you come here Shenhua?_ " she asked in a buzzing monotone.

"To talk. This first time I see you out of work clothes. You look nice." Shenhua noticed Sawyer's eyes narrowing. She obviously wanted Shenhua to get to the point. So Shenhua sighed, steeling herself for what she was going to say, and said it. "I saw Vincent. I find him after taking Leigharch to Troughton. I thought him bird, until he change into man. Stupid man run, and trip, and knock himself silly. Took him to Troughton. We talk. So, thing you should know. He wizard."

Sawyer blinked, obviously bemused by that. Shenhua added, waving a hand, "Yes, magic real. I know. My parents magic. I what known as Squib: I have no magic, but born to magic parents. They ran Triad in Taiwan for wizards. Rivals killed them, nearly killed me. Long story. I tell you later if you interested. Vincent not just wizard, he Animagus. He turn into animal, yes? Difficult magic. What's more, Vincent not real name. I think I know who he really is."

Sawyer looked at her expectantly, so Shenhua said, "He really Harry Potter, I think. He has scar, green eyes, British, be about age Vincent is."

Sawyer pressed her electrolarynx to her throat. " _Who is Harry Potter?_ "

"Long story. Short version, dark wizard called Voldemort terrorises Britain years ago. One day, he attack family called Potters. Father and mother die, but son survive curse that kill anyone. It like if you shot him in head, and bullet hole heals up. Voldemort disappears, maybe dead, and Harry become famous. Called 'Boy Who Lived'. Years later, he go to Hogwarts. That magic school in Scotland. I don't know details, as I not in that world now. But…I guess nothing good lately."

" _How did you know it was him?_ " Sawyer asked.

"Scar," Shenhua tapped her forehead. "Harry supposed to have scar in shape of lightning on forehead. May not be him, but I have gut feeling. Stupid British called him messiah, but they fickle. Wizards fickle world over, though. Like humans in general. But my guess is, he fugitive."

" _Why?_ "

Shenhua snorted. "Wizards retarded. Apparently, British wizards doubly so. Lot of inbreeding in old families. They'd turn on hero on whim. Or greed. Potters old family, old money. Invent excuse, throw him into Azkaban, throw away key, profit!"

" _Azkaban?_ "

"British prison for wizards. Not nice place," Shenhua said with considerable understatement. "Full of soul-eating demons that make you depressed." As Sawyer looked askance at her, Shenhua said, hastily, "I not make this up! You saw Vincent use magic, yes?"

" _I saw him set those mercenaries on fire with flames from his hands. You tell me._ "

"Look, he understandably worried about reaction from you. Especially as you good with chainsaw. But…he care about you. He told me he had premonition of attack. That's why he follow you. But when you saw it happen…he panic. Would you give him chance to apologise?"

Shenhua could see the gears turning in Sawyer's head, before she finally said, standing up as she did so, " _Take me to him._ "

* * *

After a brief shower, Vincent had been given some of Doctor Troughton's older clothes, though thankfully, they fit him enough. Not fancy, but better than the rags masquerading as prison clothes they had made him wear in Azkaban. He had then had to sit in the same room as that high Irishman, who, while semi-conscious, occasionally murmured or sang deranged nonsense. Case in point, as he waited to hear back from Shenhua, Leigharch sang, off-key, David Bowie's _Life on Mars_.

He'd fallen asleep in the chair in the room, despite Leigharch's utterances, before he was woken up by a gentle shaking of his shoulder. He opened his eyes blearily, only to start when he found Sawyer's eyes peering into his own. She brushed aside his fringe to peer at his scar.

Then, her lips came close to his ear. She whispered, " _Just answer me one thing._ "

He nodded, not liking where this was going. "I'll try."

"… _Was it you who shit on Revy's head?_ "

He blinked, not expecting the question. Shenhua, who had overheard the question, said, "What? You shit on slut's head as raven?"

"Umm, yeah. Stupid trigger-happy bitch shot at me when I first arrived in Roanapur. I shat in her eyes for it. Shitting on her head tonight was a bonus."

Sawyer and Shenhua blinked, before the pair of them started laughing. With Sawyer, it was little more than a sort of grotesque croaks through her ruined larynx, but genuine all the same. "Ha! Twinkie used as bird toilet! Serves her right!" Shenhua chortled.

With that, a good chunk of the tension had been dispelled. Oh, not all of it, not by any means, but the ice had been broken. And the first steps had truly been made for a friendship between the three of them…

…And between Vincent and Sawyer, something a little more…

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Shenhua, instead of Sawyer, has the magical past in this story, and she helped mediate between Sawyer and Vincent. Oh, and she knows a little of Vincent's past as Harry Potter.**

 **We'll have a timeskip for the next chapter. I want their relationship to be a bit better established. Incidentally, the timeline will be that of the anime, for the most part, but some elements will be from the manga.**

 **Isn't Leigharch fun to write for? Seriously, why doesn't he appear beyond the arc Shenhua first appears in? Maybe he was a Time Lord, and regenerated into Lotton after his brain was fried? That'd explain a lot…**

 **1\. This babble comes from** ** _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_** **, namely when Raoul Duke and Dr Gonzo take some ether. Supposedly, this is what Duke babbled while trying to get into Circus Circus. God knows what Hunter S Thompson actually said under the influence…**

 **2\. In the manga, it was cocaine, in the anime, it was marijuana. I decided that Leigharch has both, and more, in this story.**

 **3\. I thought of Patrick Troughton or his son David for the role of this back-alley doctor, hence the name, though the former would be more likely to have clothes that would fit a post-Azkaban Harry…incidentally, little bit of trivia. Dudley Dursley is played by Harry Melling…who is actually Patrick Troughton's grandson.**

 **4\. One of Jim's more bizarre utterances in the** ** _Star Wars_** **webcomic** ** _Darths and Droids_** **, where the entire Star Wars series (well, original trilogy and prequels, anyway) is retold as a tabletop RPG. It's brilliant, funny, and highly recommended. In the webcomic, Jim plays, amongst other roles, Qui-Gon, Padme, and Han Solo. I'm sure that if** ** _Black Lagoon_** **was a tabletop RPG, he'd be playing Revy. Ben (who originally plays Obi-Wan) would play Dutch, Sally perhaps Balalaika or Shenhua or Sawyer, and Annie would play Rock. Dunno who Pete would play, though Benny is a possibility.**

 **5\. While** ** _Homestuck_** **is yet to come out at the time of this story's setting (late 90s to 2000), Leigharch is channelling Terezi Pyrope, a blind Troll who can tell the colours of things by licking them. She loves the colour red.**

 **6\. Again, this reference is from a show after this story's setting, but** ** _Half-Life_** **was released shortly beforehand. The line comes from the third episode of** ** _Freeman's Mind_** **, a sort of hybrid of Let's Play and Abridged Series where Gordon Freeman's thoughts are audible, showing him to be a neurotic, narcissistic and somewhat unhinged individual. And it's hilarious. That version of Gordon Freeman ended up in my** ** _Portal_** **crossover,** ** _Is Your Great-Aunt an AI?!_**

 **7\. I once read this in a book or magazine of** ** _Doctor Who_** **, where the Sixth Doctor's last words on TV ("Carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice…") while the TARDIS dematerialises is mocked this way. 'Vworp! Vworp!' is the standard onomatopoeia for the TARDIS' sound in comics. I personally think it's naff.**


	5. Chapter 4: Those Left Behind

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **THOSE LEFT BEHIND**

 _Two weeks later_ …

Hermione Granger sat down heavily at her desk in her office at Beauxbatons, sighing. Not because the work was hard, though it was admittedly challenging. French was not her native language after all, and teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was challenging. But she at least knew enough French even in her years at Hogwarts to be reasonable, and by now, she spoke it fluently, though some idioms were lost to her.

It had been a year since that fateful day that Harry had been carted off to Azkaban, declared a Dark Lord on the rise who cared little about the conventions of Magical British society. He had sacrificed his own safety to ensure that his friends got out of the country all right. The Goblins had wanted revenge over that whole 'breaking into Gringotts' fiasco, the Malfoys showed that you could never trust them to not to stab you in the back even if you did save their worthless hides, and the Grangers and the Weasleys were forced to leave Britain (save for Percy, who kissed up to the current Minister, Cyrus Greengrass, to save his own worthless sycophantic hide), with Bill and Fleur losing their jobs at Gringotts, thanks to the spite and greed of the Goblins.

Ron was now working under his brother in Romania, as was Luna Lovegood, and the two, surprisingly, had been in a relationship. Unfortunately, it didn't last, though Luna had adopted a couple of kids. Neville and Ginny had hooked up themselves. As for Hermione…well, she was still looking for someone, though George and herself had begun to see each other. She thought Harry might be the one, but he was taken away to Azkaban. And while she hadn't given up hope for his survival, what with his disappearance from Azkaban some months before, or her friendship, maybe the time had passed for her to try and commit to a relationship with him.

She believed that Harry had managed to emulate his godfather, and escape from Azkaban as an animal. The Ministry was up in arms, and the blame game was being played as to who didn't try to prevent Animagus transformations in Azkaban. Harry didn't come here, but then again, as much as that hurt, it was possible that he couldn't. And in any case, coming here might endanger him, and them.

France at least was a bit better prejudice-wise, or at least the French wizards were. Not that much, but enough that a Muggleborn or those of creature heritage had a better chance of advancement. The current head of the French ministry was a Muggleborn. And Fleur, whom she had come to see as a friend now, was part-Veela. In comparison to Magical Britain, it was progressive, though Hermione still thought their society stuck in the Victorian era at best.

It still hurt her that she had been forced to flee her own country because of the sheer ingratitude of the very people she had helped save by Harry's side. The greed and spite of the Goblins and the Purebloods and the Ministry had done this. What hurt most was the impotence, the inability to do anything about it, though it looked to be a moot point. Greengrass' Ministry was in trouble, and the Goblins seemed about to wage another rebellion, betraying the Ministry. Then again, the Goblins didn't really care. The only side they were on were their own.

A fortnightly magazine she subscribed to was there: _Mage_ , the equivalent of _Time Magazine_ for the wizarding world, only published fortnightly rather than weekly. Published by the Americans, and flavoured by their own prejudices (hell, they were in some regards worse than Magical Britain: wizards and witches weren't even allowed to marry Muggles or 'No-Majs' until partway through the 20th century!), it was still, sadly, much better reporting than _The Daily Prophet_. She used this to look through the international news, to see if there was any sign of Harry, along with other publications.

She wasn't actually expecting anything, beyond the editors of Mage mocking the British Ministry's incarceration of Harry and their inability to keep him locked up. Hermione chuckled darkly at a political cartoon of Harry's head on a crow, flying out of cartoon Azkaban, while sinister hands representing Gringotts, the Ministry and the Purebloods reached out for him. She didn't know how accurate the cartoon was in Harry's means of escape.

It was one small article that briefly caught her interest. She didn't know whether it was Harry or not, it was just the intriguing nature of the article.

 _No-Maj Mercs Get Burned in Roanapur_

 _Roanapur, Thailand. A byword amongst No-Majs and wizards alike for lawlessness. The Statute of Secrecy is virtually non-existent in places like these, and not long ago, Roanapur witnessed an egregious breach of the Statute. Though to the jaded locals, it was just another day._

 _The local DMLE doesn't usually go into Roanapur, with the last major attempt by Thai Aurors to clean up the city resulting in a bloodbath still spoken of in awed whispers in Thailand's DMLE. Indeed, there are rumours that the Thailand DMLE has struck a deal with the American No-Maj organisation known as the Central Intelligence Agency for them to monitor the situation, as they have a foothold in Roanapur._

 _However, a recent event has sent the local authorities, if not into a panic, then giving them cause for concern._

 _In a bar that caters to the various malfeasants living in Roanapur, a group of No-Maj mercenaries, known as 'Extra Order', attacked the bar. Later investigation by the DMLE suggests that they had been hired by a Japanese company to assassinate a smaller mercenary group, the Lagoon Company, that had kidnapped one of their employees. The investigation also suggested that said employee was targeted for assassination to suppress possibly sensitive information._

 _During the attack, though, the mercenaries were apparently attacked by a single wizard, who used some sort of fire spell to kill the mercs, before fleeing into the night. The Lagoon Company also fled, with dubious reports claiming that Extra Order's remaining operatives pursued them, only for their helicopter to be shot down._

 _The mystery wizard appeared only briefly, and descriptions are vague. However, his power is undeniable, for he used fire spells hot enough to reduce human bodies into ashes, but retained enough control to minimise damage to the surroundings, an impressive, if frightening, feat if this was Fiendfyre._

 _Is there a wizard on the mean streets of Roanapur, looking to carve out his own criminal empire there? Does he desire to start a war with the other gang leaders? Is he a hired wizard for the No-Maj owner of the bar? These questions and many others have been asked, and no answers are forthcoming_ …

Hermione frowned. The odds of this being Harry or even related were astronomical. But in a perverse way, she hoped he was in Roanapur. While it was a veritable wretched hive of scum and villainy, it was also a good place to hide out. And she pitied any stupid bastard who tried to winkle him out of there…

Oh, wait. If the likes of the Malfoys and their ilk tried to do so, then she wouldn't pity them at all.

* * *

A wave of sneezes filled the room, and the occupants all looked askance at each other. After a moment, a rather sharp-faced young man with blonde hair looked at them, before making a mental note to punish whichever House Elf failed to clean the room properly. He then continued his talk.

"The information given to us by the Thailand DMLE wasn't conclusive. But we have an informant who has contacted us and claimed they have confirmed it, or as much as they can. Potter, or someone answering to his description, is in Roanapur, and currently staying at the residence of a Muggle called Frederica Sawyer."

"Who is this informant, Malfoy?" asked one of those gathered.

"Well, Nott, they have done so under the name of Jude Epipodius(1). We believe it to be a pseudonym, or, for those of you who got 'Trolls' on their grades, a false name. The Thai Aurors are too scared to go in, because some of the Muggle criminals know of magic, and react violently like the uncouth brutes that they are. And while we should be able to handle anything they throw at us, we are not going to linger. We go in, we subdue Potter, kill the bitch he's staying with while he watches, and bring him back here. We'll then make sure he has the Kiss."

"Won't that make him a martyr, Malfoy?"

"That was our initial concern, but the Goblins want his head now. They've been made a fool of twice by Potter, and they don't want to give him another chance to embarrass them. Martyr or not, Potter must die, and he must die publicly. If anything, it might make those traitors and Mudbloods come back over from France," Draco Malfoy sneered. "The Frogs have been uncooperative since Gringotts kicked that Veela tart out. They're not worth the effort to extradite, but if they are idiotic enough to come back over, then we'll deal with them as we see fit. They'll fall prey to an unfortunate accident."

A susurration of agreement wafted through the room. They may have changed some of their ways, but what had become known as the Purity Club were just the Death Eaters' next generation, flying under the radar. In a way, they were closer to the criminal organisations in Roanapur they despised. If the comparison was made, they would consider themselves smarter.

In truth, they had no idea of what the fuck they were getting into. Which was the plan…

* * *

The plan had formed in the idea of a woman in Roanapur. A most dangerous woman who lived in a world of betrayal and deceit. No different from many in Roanapur, but the stage she played on was bigger than one city in Thailand. And while not the biggest spider in the web on the world stage, in her part of the world, she was the unacknowledged ruler of Roanapur, masking her queenly attributes in hedonism and a jovial nature.

It was through a few sources that she learned of the presence of Harry Potter in Roanapur. She had used her pull with the Thai Aurors, the few who investigated, to drop the matter, saying she would handle it herself. Through them, as well as a few of the witnesses, she began to get a hunch that it was Potter. The lightning bolt scar was distinctive, and his appearance had matched a rough description of Potter. Speaking with Revy and Bao at the Yellow Flag also helped, as well as confirming a possible connection to someone who was probably Sawyer the Cleaner. The uncrowned queen knew Sawyer's true appearance. She knew a lot of secrets within Roanapur, some small, others big.

Babbling from Leigharch about Dr Troughton's latest patient had drawn her attention, and she plied him with his favourite drugs. Leigharch had written off what he had heard as part of his drug-induced state, but the uncrowned queen thought otherwise.

She had then engaged in surveillance of Sawyer's business, and hit the jackpot. That was Harry Potter all right, looking rather worse for wear, but still him. And that was when she hit on a plan.

She had solicited the remnants of the Death Eaters in Britain through her contacts. She managed to get quite the nifty sum from them in exchange for the whereabouts of Harry Potter. She would say that it was nothing personal, that it was just business, but it was a lie. In fact, there was a fairly good reason for her doing this.

Harry Potter was a wildcard. A disruptive one. He had, after all, managed to bring down Voldemort, even if that Boy Who Lived hyperbole was just that. And while he had kept his head down in Roanapur, something might cause him to flip out and cause disruption.

So, by setting the Death Eaters' remnant onto him, she would either solve the problem of Harry Potter…or else reduce the power of the Blood Purists in England significantly. Either way was fine. Hell, both could happen. Plus, there was the entertainment value of watching bloody chaos wash across Roanapur on occasion. It was one of the reasons she was friends with Revy: that girl sure knew how to stir shit up.

Oh, she would warn him, once she was sure the British idiots were on the move, just to give him a sporting chance. After all, it wouldn't be entertaining to have Harry cursed from behind without any prior warning.

The uncrowned queen of Roanapur had gone by many names in her career for the Central Intelligence Agency, but in Roanapur, she was known as Eda, an ersatz nun working for the Church of Violence, aka the Rip-Off Church. And mixing business with pleasure was what she did best…

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Don't worry, we'll get back to Harry and Sawyer in the next chapter. I just wanted to show what the hell happened to Harry in the first place, as well as how his friends and foes were dealing with it.**

 **Now, some of you might be annoyed with how I portrayed Eda, but let's face it, she's a bitch of the highest order. Witness what she did during the Greenback Jane arc just to make more money and, presumably, weaken a few of the gangs in Roanapur. Eda is basically playing a game of 'let's you and him fight' between Harry and the Death Eaters' successors, hoping that some of the gangs get involved and kill off more Blood Purists. She doesn't really care if Sawyer gets bumped off either. I personally think the only people Eda cares about in Roanapur (and this is a fairly big if) are Revy, Rock, and Yolanda. She's like the lovechild of Revolver Ocelot and Vriska Serket.**

 **Of course, Eda hasn't factored a certain maid into account, for when Malfoy and company arrive in Roanapur…so too will Roberta. Not that Harry needs the extra help, but let's just say that Roberta will help make things into a big clusterfuck…**

 **1\. The name is a portmanteau of two saints, chosen for what they are patron saints of, as a sardonic joke of Eda's. St Jude, no relation to Judas Iscariot (though Eda chose the name because 'Jude' is another name for Judas, as a sort of self-deprecating joke), is the patron saint of lost causes, while St Epipodus, amongst other things, is the patron saint of the betrayed. Plus, Jude Epipodus does sound a bit wizardy, doesn't it? Malfoy and company wouldn't recognise the names as being those of saints…**


	6. Chapter 5: Breaking the Silence

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **BREAKING THE SILENCE**

In a park in Roanapur, perched on the edge of a fountain, an odd couple sat, eating a couple of ice creams. Both were seemingly in their late teens to early twenties, but with an air that made them older. And yet, their eating an ice cream each seemed to give them an almost childish air, like they were trying to reclaim childhoods they had never really had.

The past couple of weeks had been kind to Vincent. While still lanky and scrawny, he now looked less haggard. His eyes were still haunted and hollow, and his hair still messy, with the raven feathers still visible if one looked closely enough (he wore a hat to cover this). But he looked better groomed, even by Roanapur standards. And in a way, he was a good match for Sawyer. He asked to call her 'Sawyer' or 'Rica', as he had known a friend who had died called Fred. Sawyer preferred to go by her last name anyway.

After a shaky start, even after the catharsis in Troughton's clinic, their relationship had bounced back. There were only four people Sawyer was sure knew of Vincent's old life: herself, Vincent, Shenhua, and Chang, with Balalaika being a possible fifth (she knew Vincent was a mage). Vincent was trying to figure out what he would do with his new life in Roanapur. He had no interest in joining any of the gangs per se. And becoming a vigilante would lead to him having a short life anyway, in a place like Roanapur. If anything, he was considering becoming a bodyguard for hire or even an assassin, like Shenhua. Harry Potter may not have considered such a thing, but Vincent was not Harry Potter, not anymore. He shared flesh and blood with the now-deceased Boy Who Lived, but Harry Potter had died when he had been betrayed by the people he had saved.

In a way, his new name was apposite. Vincent meant 'conquering' and 'winning'. Harry Potter had lost. But Vincent would win. He didn't want to seek out those from his old life. It would hurt them as much as it would hurt him, and give his enemies a means to track him down. No, for better or for worse, Roanapur was his home now.

In any case, his first step along the bloody road of becoming a mercenary had happened last night. Sawyer knew because Shenhua brought him along on one of her jobs. He came back with an impressed Shenhua in tow, along with an unwilling guest. Apparently the pair of them had to go and deal with a rival Chinese gang who had been attacking various interests, including Chang's and Balalaika's. They had apparently been the underlings of a man called Chen, who had tried to have the Lagoon Company murdered. Balalaika had killed him in her turn, only for Chen's subordinates to vow revenge.

Whatever the British wizards had done to Vincent, Sawyer reckoned that they had killed off his morality, or most of it. Shenhua had babbled about how he had disappeared and reappeared, using spells that burned them, or sliced them up, or caused them to expel their own entrails. It had been messy and spectacular. What was more, he was discriminating about who he killed. A few of the gang members, he had spared, saying they were just stupid hangers-on who were going to, if not repent their ways, then at least not going to make the mistake of following rabid dogs to their doom. A few would even join Chang's ranks.

Shenhua was a little annoyed that he had been so efficient with his killing, she hadn't been able to kill as many. But she couldn't complain. He had set things up so their hideout would be burned down, and brought the arrogant new leader back to Sawyer, ready for her to do her work. And while Shenhua hadn't stuck around to watch, she would later learn that, in raven form, Vincent watched the whole thing, only flinching from the noise of Sawyer's chainsaw.

When the news of this gang's decimation broke, Chang and Balalaika spread the word that Shenhua had been assisted in her work by a mercenary known as Corvus. The survivors helped spread that. Even today, so soon after it happened, the crooks of Roanapur already spoke of a dark figure, more demon than man.

Of course, another legend spread of the Demon Crow of Roanapur, of a bird made up of the souls of the dead birds who were shot for target practise in Roanapur. Do not shoot them, the legend said, or else the Demon Crow will haunt you and crap on you from a great height. Revy was the one who spread that one most of all, but she continued to shoot at birds. She never managed to see Vincent coming, though. Sometimes, he didn't crap on her. He'd just sneak up on her, caw very loudly, and then Apparate away before she could shoot him. It got close at one point yesterday: she and that Japanese guy, who went by the nickname of Rock, had been having a bad argument, and she had nearly shot at Rock until Vincent intervened. Apparently, she finally calmed down a little towards Rock. But she had sworn eternal vengeance against all crows for their insolence.

But in the weeks they had known each other, with Vincent being first a raven, and then a man, Sawyer felt the bonds of companionship strengthen. She couldn't call what she felt love or even lust by any means, but there was a friendship blooming here. He had made it clear he didn't care about her scars, and he had grown used to her profession.

In a way, Vincent was a godsend to her. She had someone to watch movies and even play games with, should she feel so inclined. She had someone to be there for her, a shoulder to lean on. She could be normal around him, or as normal as a chainsaw-happy cleaner for the gangs of Roanapur could be. And she reciprocated for him. In raven and human form, she would keep him close when he needed it. A psychological symbiosis of sorts between two broken and twisted human beings.

What was more, the circumstances around his outing as a wizard in hiding strengthened her bonds with Shenhua. The Taiwanese assassin occasionally came around to socialise with them. It was a bit of a struggle, what with Sawyer needing her electrolarynx to speak, and Shenhua's broken English, but the two got along like a house on fire, and Shenhua even became friends with Vincent. Vincent even offered to find out how to use a translation charm so that Shenhua could speak in her native Hokkien, and they could understand it. Shenhua had managed to obtain some books on the black market, and had given them to Vincent. He was going to try it out tomorrow, when Shenhua next came around.

As they finished off their ice creams, Sawyer leaned in close to Vincent, and whispered, " _So, was that a date?_ "

Vincent looked at her in bemusement, before shrugging. "I think we'll wait until I take you to a good dinner," he said quietly. "We're not quite at that stage yet, are we?"

Sawyer shrugged. She said that mostly to tease Vincent slightly. She liked doing that, like telling him some gruesome anecdotes from her career as a cleaner. " _I liked it all the same_ ," she whispered.

The smile that appeared on his face was small and wistful, one she knew was matched on her own face. It was small moments like this that showed that they still had some small embers of humanity left within them, even in a place like Roanapur. A place that eroded what little humanity most of those who came to its shores had left…

* * *

They had walked back to UG Pork in silence. Not out of any awkwardness, but purely because Sawyer couldn't speak properly without her electrolarynx. Indeed, Vincent was the only person she ever spoke to without it. In a way, he felt privileged. And her whispers held a strange beauty that her rasping monotone using the electrolarynx bestowed on her didn't have. It was like the ghost of the voice she once had, a thing without substance, but not without beauty. It sent shivers down his spine, and he wondered whether there was any way her voice could be brought back.

It looked like it was going to be a quiet couple of days, though word on the street was that it wouldn't last. Shenhua had confided in them that Balalaika was considering decimating the Manislera Cartel, who had been getting too big for their boots. Not wiping them out entirely, but even Chang was concerned about their ambitions.

They sat down together to watch _The Phantom of the Opera_. Sawyer had obtained a tape of the original silent film version with Lon Chaney Senior in it. As Vincent watched, he realised that Sawyer had been entranced by the film. In fact, he noticed a wistful look in her eyes when she saw Christine, as well as a suspicious glistening to them. He noticed her touching her throat unconsciously.

When the film finished, they sat there in silence. Then, Sawyer's eyes met Vincent's. No question was asked verbally, but Vincent knew she could see the question in his eyes. Asking about the past was not a good idea in Roanapur.

She turned away from him. He thought for a moment he had offended her, so he stood, and made to leave the room, only to be stopped by the sound of her electrolarynx. " _I was like her once_ ," she buzzed. " _Like Christine. My father…when he discovered my talent…he made it his mission in life to train me into being the best. He wanted to live off the fame and fortune he thought I would get, retire from the sawmill he worked at. But he was a slave driver. No, he was worse than that. He didn't care about my happiness or my mother's. Just his plans for me. He made Genma Saotome look like father of the year._ "

Vincent turned around, and then sat back next to her. He didn't reply, he just waited for her to continue.

" _There was a big audition for a prestigious music school where I could be trained in opera. My father brought me there…and…I missed out. I was encouraged to try again next time, or try another school…but my father then attacked the audition panel. He claimed they were prejudiced, that they had been bribed. He was dragged out by the police. And he blamed me for it. My father, I learned later, had some sort of severe psychiatric disorder. He thought it was my fault I hadn't gotten through, and even when I showed the contacts the panel gave me for other schools_ …" Sawyer shuddered, curling up into a ball on the couch, her electrolarynx dropping to the floor. Vincent gently put a hand on her shoulder as she silently sobbed.

Eventually, she leaned up next to him, and whispered, " _He had taken out a life insurance policy on me, made sure the period against payout for suicide had expired. He intended for me to seem like I committed suicide, but he slit my throat. But the stupid bastard missed my jugular and carotid. I played dead long enough until he left…and then, I got his chainsaw._ " He saw a wistful smile on her face, and a disturbing one at that. " _He was my first. After that, I was committed…but you don't need to hear any more of that._ "

"You didn't need to tell me any of that," Vincent said quietly. "I know what it's like to not have a say in how I live my life, though." His fingers gently brushed the scars on her throat. "I wish I could have heard you singing, Sawyer."

She chuckled bitterly, little more than quiet croaks. " _I wish you could too_ ," she whispered.

Vincent felt angry. Angry at such injustice that had robbed Sawyer of her voice…and her future. A future that didn't need to be made on the mean streets of Roanapur. He wished he could hear her sing. He wished he could hear her voice.

He felt anger welling up within him. And with that anger, his magic did too. His fingers were still touching Sawyer's throat, at the choker of scar tissue…and suddenly, his fingers flared with actinic light, as did Sawyer's throat. He couldn't take his fingers away now even if he wanted to. Everything dissolved into a flare of brilliant light…before unconsciousness took him…

* * *

"… _Ent! Vincent! Wake up, please!_ "

The voice was that of an angel, albeit an angel currently in the grips of a panic. He felt like he had just been run over by a truck. He had a headache, his bones felt like they had been set on fire, and his muscles felt like he had run a marathon while holding a troll over his head, not helped by the shaking of his shoulder. Possibly a moderate case of magical exhaustion.

He opened his eyes to find Sawyer standing in front of him with both her hands on his shoulders. "Vincent? You're awake! Are you all right?" she asked.

"I feel like something the cat dragged in and pissed all over," he groaned. Some part of his mind insisted that he was missing something, something vital. "What in Merlin's name happened?"

"You tell me," Sawyer responded. "I nearly got blinded by that freaky lightshow, and then, you fall unconscious."

And that's when it hit him. Sawyer wasn't speaking with the electrolarynx. She wasn't whispering either. Her voice had returned. In fact, it was definitely a young woman's voice, and not the one she would have had when her throat was cut. "Sawyer…your voice…"

She nodded, rubbing at her throat. The scars were still there. "Yeah, that was the first thing I noticed after you keeled over. I was freaking out for a couple of minutes. I…what did you do to me?"

Vincent blinked. "I…I have no idea. I was just getting so angry about what happened to you, that I would never get to hear your voice, and then…shit happened."

Sawyer pursed her lips. Then, she began singing softly, testing out notes. After that, she murmured, "Even after so long…I can sing again. I can speak and sing again." Her dull eyes were staring out into space. In wonder of it happening? In fear that this was a dream, or of her own voice?

She then gently brought Vincent up to his feet, and then embraced him. No more words were said for a long time, no babble of thanks in a voice long disused and yet miraculously brought not only into existence again, but made into an adult. The gratitude was all in the gesture.

They stayed like that for a while, Sawyer and Vincent, just embracing. That was all that was needed. And with this serendipitous act, their relationship had been cemented…

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **A sweet little chapter of Harry/Sawyer. The bit where they're sitting at the fountain, eating ice cream was inspired by a piece of** ** _Black Lagoon_** **artwork I saw on the** ** _Black Lagoon_** **wiki that shows Sawyer, Shenhua, and Lotton in swimwear, at the poolside. Sawyer's hunched up like L from** ** _Death Note_** **, while eating an ice cream, looking rather cute as she does so. The fountain Vincent and Sawyer are sitting at is the same one where Balalaika sets up the ambush for Hansel, in case you're wondering.**

 **The part where Vincent restores Sawyer's voice was, admittedly, inspired by Arawn D Draven's** ** _No rest for the wicked_** **, where Sawyer's voice is explicitly stated to have been healed by Harry through magic. While I didn't do the same thing in** ** _Disquiet_** **, thinking it strengthened the bond between Harry and Sawyer in that fic to have them both permanently mute, I decided to do that here, albeit through serendipitous magic rather than anything truly deliberate.**

 **As for Sawyer's backstory, I wanted something that fit all the hints I had written in the previous chapters. I actually made a lot of it up on the fly, though I did do research as to whether life insurance pays out in suicide cases, as I was under the impression this wasn't the case. Apparently they do, but there's at least a year or two (depending on the policy) period before that is allowed. And there probably are policies that don't pay out for suicides. Even if all life insurance policies didn't pay out for suicides, I was going to have Sawyer mention that her father wasn't all that smart. After all, he didn't even bother to let her audition for another school.**

 **Anyway, I didn't intend to give Sawyer a backstory in this story. I just wanted to give hints to her past. Those who followed this story's initial chapters in** ** _The Cauldron_** **may have noticed some changes I made to better foreshadow this backstory. In fact, her backstory was inspired when I thought of having them watch** ** _The Phantom of the Opera_** **. That's when it all fell into place.**

 **The backstory was also made deliberately to be different from other possible ones. Not just my own backstory to her in** ** _Disquiet_** **, but also to that which Just Another Soul gave her. Just Another Soul explicitly links Sawyer to the Sawyer clan, and thus Leatherface, from** ** _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_** **, and I felt following in their footsteps was too trite and boring. As horrific, apt and inspired that Just Another Soul's backstory for Sawyer was, I felt it was also too obvious. I thought of a murderous mutant offspring of Sally Jupiter from** ** _Watchmen_** **and Genma Saotome from** ** _Ranma_** **, along with the worst examples of stage parents, for Sawyer's father.**

 **I think this will be my own personal fanon past for Sawyer from now on, her backstory in any further** ** _Black Lagoon_** **stories I do. Well, unless a crossover element appeals more.**

 **Of course, keep in mind that Sawyer won't speak much, unless it's to Vincent and Shenhua. Oh, and next chapter? Harry's enemies come to Roanapur…and so too does a certain maid. Though that may not be out for a while, due to my needing to revise certain elements of the story so far…**

 **What does Sawyer's actual voice sound like? Well, I decided either Kari Wahlgren or Courtnee Draper, the latter due to her role as Elizabeth in** ** _Bioshock Infinite_** **. I would have considered Saffron Henderson, her actual voice in** ** _Black Lagoon_** **, but I haven't heard any of her other roles outside of that work.**

 **Review-answering time!** **coduss** **: Shenhua isn't an idiot. Plus, she could probably say the name, but not spell it.**

 **Tenzo51** **: Oh, believe me, Vincent/Harry isn't the one with the shotgun. He doesn't need it. That isn't to say that the fight doesn't involve firearms, though…**

 **Persistent Dreamer** **: In this story, Sawyer is no Squib, she's a Muggle. Shenhua is a Squib, though.**

 **Celestia GF of the Void** **: Well, Clarkson was quoting the song. And yes, I saw the clip from the Bolivia special. Plus Richard Hammond remarking, "Has he got a chainsaw? Oh,** ** _God_** **…" The song begins with Arthur Brown screaming "I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE, AND I BRING YOU…" 'Fire!' is the first sung word of the song. You could probably see a music video on YouTube…**

 **Malhavoc Shadowlord** **: I don't think Eda will get caught. Not unless she does something REALLY stupid…**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	7. Chapter 6: The Oncoming Storms

**CHAPTER 6:**

 **THE ONCOMING STORMS**

The next morning, Shenhua came around to have a chat with them. The Taiwanese assassin wanted to see if Vincent had managed to get the translation charm down. There were various types, but the one they wanted allowed them to speak in their native language and it be translated to a language of their choice, as well as any words they heard being translated to their native language.

Some languages were trickier than others, especially tonal languages, like Shenhua's native Hokkien. They required a stronger infusion of magic. But Shenhua, while her command of English was, in her opinion, adequate for her work, for talking with Sawyer and Vincent, she wanted to be able to sound more coherent. And less like, in her opinion, the prostitute from _Full Metal Jacket_.

Soon after arriving, she had sat down in the living room of the apartment, while Vincent prepared. "Doing this shit windlessly is harder than doing it with a wand," he muttered.

"It fine, as long as I not start speaking Latin. I mangle that like British wizards do," Shenhua said with a shrug. "Or I babble like Leigharch on Mars."

"Hopefully, it's easier than casting a Patronus," Vincent said, before casting the spell. "Well?"

Shenhua frowned. "Hmm, I don't know…did it work?"

Vincent and Sawyer looked at each other, before he asked, "Are you speaking Hokkien?"

Shenhua blinked. "Well, I'm definitely hearing it! How do I sound?"

"Like you could recite Shakespeare," Vincent said. Well, that was a bit of a stretch, but Shenhua's accent was reduced, and her English was no longer broken.

"Ha!" Shenhua said, clapping her hands together. "Great! Fuck you, Revy! A shame magic can't do anything for poor Sawyer, though," she added, her face falling.

Vincent and Sawyer shared a look. Sawyer nodded, before Vincent said, "Yeah, about that…last night…well…there was an accident involving magic."

"An accident? What sort of accident?" Shenhua asked.

"The sort of accident that gave me my voice back, Shenhua," Sawyer said.

Shenhua blinked, before looking at Sawyer, before turning her gaze to Vincent. "Is this a prank? Did you put in some weird hallucination jinx when you cast the translation charm? It's not funny, and I might slice you up for that."

"Don't you dare," Sawyer said. "Otherwise, I'll _clean_ you." Her tone meant that Shenhua would become one of her victims.

Again, Shenhua blinked in bemusement, before saying, "Okay, explain, then."

* * *

And so they did, although Sawyer omitted her past. Afterwards, Shenhua looked thoughtful. "Okay, well, magic like that, while not unheard of, is rare. I'm not surprised that you suffered from a moderate case of magical exhaustion, Vincent. The age of her injury wouldn't have helped either. I don't really know much about it, though. It's like accidental magic in kids. But I think there's something more to it than that."

"Like what?" Vincent asked.

"Look, I only know this crap because my parents made sure I was tutored about the way magic and the magical world works," Shenhua said. "But…I read speculation in books about Animagi and familiars."

Sawyer frowned. "Familiars? As in animal companions of witches?"

"Yeah, but No-Majs got it wrong. A familiar is more than a pet, or even a companion. You get that sort of thing with normal animals. The line between a magical pet and a familiar is pretty blurry, but it comes down to one distinction: there is a bond, and not just a psychological one. There's a magical one as well, and a strong one at that. This is not the speculative part, by the way, this is an established magic fact. You get some small magical bonds in some cases, like with post owls, but it's rare for one of them to become a familiar. In fact, actual familiars are rare. One of the few familiar bonds I've heard of from modern times is your Albus Dumbledore, Vincent, and the Phoenix he bonded with."

Vincent scoffed bitterly. "He's not _my_ Albus Dumbledore."

"Hey, I'm just using him as an example," Shenhua said, waving a placating hand. "Now, here's the kicker. There've been a few recorded cases in history of an Animagus instituting a familiar bond, and even those are disputed. Only one case has been made of an Animagus having a familiar bond with a No-Maj. That normally shouldn't be possible, as magical bonds require a two-way flow of magic. It was a controversial case in America, before the MACUSA rescinded their ban on wizards and witches marrying No-Majs. MACUSA thought, in their infinite wisdom, that the familiar bond had been faked, and severed it. Now, familiar bonds, when severed by the death of one of those involved, don't usually cause the other to die. But when they're forcibly severed by destroying the bond itself…well, MACUSA were surprised when both the Animagus and the No-Maj she had been seeing died. There was a big cover-up, it only came out during the Sixties."

"So…what you are saying…is that somehow, Vincent and I have a familiar bond?" Sawyer asked sceptically. "Am I draining magic from him or something?"

"Not exactly. I don't understand the full details, but No-Majs and Squibs still have the potential to use magic, they just don't have the right genes or something. You may not be able to do magic, but the magic from your bond gets amplified in your body when Vincent pushes magic into it, and that in turn feeds magic back to him. That's probably how he managed to heal your larynx. The few cases where Animagi have familiar bonds with people, well, they were rumoured to have performed extraordinary feats of magic, said to be impossible. Of course, that's speculation and legend, nothing concrete is known. Also, keep in mind that a familiar bond doesn't mean a bond of servitude, so there's no servitude or slavery involved, no matter what some people might think."

* * *

On another world, a certain pink-haired mage sneezed twice. Louise de La Vallière scowled, automatically wondering whether this was somehow Saito's fault…

* * *

"Now, the only reason I really thought of that, besides what you told me about how you restored Sawyer's voice, is what you said happened around the time Extra Order attacked the Yellow Flag," Shenhua said. "You said you had a premonition about Sawyer being in trouble, right? Well, familiars have been known to anticipate danger for those that they are bonded to on occasion. It's not reliable, no form of divination or precognition is. But, well…you can't deny the results. Given that you were Harry Potter, I suggest letting your instincts do the rest. Speaking of which, I've been checking on events in Britain."

"And?" Vincent asked.

"Well, for starters, if I wasn't a Squib, I'd resurrect Dumbledore and show him what I can do with my kukri knives," Shenhua said bluntly. "Seriously, expecting a kid to face one of the worst Dark Lords ever to rise, did he go senile or something? I don't have the details, just enough to know that Magical Britain is full of inbred retards. Nothing new, really, but still…anyway, the problem is, you're still considered a wanted fugitive by the British. Gringotts has declared that they will pay a rather exorbitant bounty for your head. Thankfully, the Gringotts Goblins aren't the only Goblins in the world, or the only Goblin bankers for that matter. More than a few Goblin bankers have cheered for your efforts, as their cousins in Britain are amongst the most arrogant, and they liked you taking them down a peg or two. I also learned that most of your friends are in France, though a few are in Romania."

"Charlie," Vincent murmured. "A couple of the others must've joined him." He then shook his head. That was in the past. "And if my little pyrotechnics display in the Yellow Flag got noticed…I'm surprised they haven't come here already."

As if on cue, the phone rang. Vincent went over and picked it up. "UG Pork," he said.

" _Hello Mr Potter._ "

The voice was warped and flanging, presumably through some sort of voice changer. It was impossible to tell whether the speaker was male or female. Vincent nearly dropped the phone, before he hissed, "My name is _Vincent_."

" _I'm sure you believe that. Names are like masks, aren't they? So easy to hide yourself…sometimes, you forget who you truly are. If you need a name for me, call me Outis(_ _1)_ _._ "

"I have nothing to say to you."

" _Not even if I were to say Draco Malfoy and his little band of would-be Death Eaters were on their way to Roanapur?_ " As Vincent nearly dropped the phone in shock, Outis said, " _Now that I have your attention, listen. Draco Malfoy and the Slytherins who were children of the Death Eaters have their own little mini-Death Eater organisation. It's closer to one of the criminal gangs here. They intend to bring you back to Britain and subject you to the Dementor's Kiss, so they want to bring you back alive, and more or less intact. I'd imagine that they'd kill Sawyer in front of you to salt the wound. That's all the information I'm going to give, so watch your back. Good luck._ " And with that, the phone cut off.

* * *

As Eda put the phone down, she smirked. That had definitely set the cat amongst the pigeons. Well, he had been warned. Now it was all in the hands of whatever deity existed. Hopefully, the fireworks ought to be fun to watch…

* * *

After some hurried explanations, Shenhua had opted to head back to the Triad's headquarters, warn Chang that a storm might be on the way. Vincent also contacted Balalaika, warning her to keep an eye out for British mages, and that there may be a little chaos in Roanapur. Beyond what he had been causing already, anyway. Balalaika wished him luck, though she had, in her words, prior engagements.

He tried ringing the Lagoon Company, but didn't manage to get through to them until later in the afternoon. Apparently they had been out on a delivery that had gotten complicated. Vincent was sure he could hear a young boy in the background, arguing with Revy. Vincent was amused to hear Revy snarl, " _I HOPE THE DEMON CROW SHITS IN YOUR FACE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!_ " Dutch agreed to keep an eye out. He and Vincent had met once by chance a few days before when Vincent was human, and Dutch had recognised the man who had saved him and his crew in the Yellow Flag. Dutch had given his contact details, just in case. And the leader of the Lagoon Company appreciated the warning.

The problem was, would it be enough? He and Sawyer were now vulnerable, someone having figured out his location and betrayed him to his enemies. He had two hopes.

The first was that he once was Harry Potter. Vincent, aka Corvus, was what was left when the boy had died suffering in the cold cell in Azkaban. He made the impossible happen by existing, Sawyer's restored voice being merely the latest near-miracle he performed. He had defeated Voldemort several times over, taught Defence Against the Dark Arts to his fellow students, and survived things that should have killed him many times over.

The second was that this was Roanapur. A wretched hive that was infamous in certain circles. Few mages would feel at ease here, and what was more, Draco Malfoy was a spoilt brat with little subtlety, though he managed to get some during Sixth Year. Draco Malfoy or his minions would blunder in here and hopefully piss off the wrong people.

After some considerable discussion, he and Sawyer decided to head down to the Yellow Flag. Drinking there should be at least as dangerous to their enemies as it would be to them, especially if Revy was there…

* * *

As they walked down the street in the evening twilight, they stopped when they saw a strange woman, talking to a group of people at a café. She was dressed as an old-fashioned maid, her pretty, if rather impassive, face framed by dark hair done up in twin pigtails, her eyes behind glasses. She carried an umbrella, and a suitcase. Vincent and Sawyer were on edge, until they realised that the woman was speaking with a soft South American accent, not a British one. And Vincent was almost certain Malfoy wouldn't hire a magical chambermaid from South America…though he couldn't rule out a British one. "…would like to know where the worst gangsters hang out, please," she said in her quiet voice.

"The Yellow Flag would be a good bet," Vincent said. The maid looked up sharply at his voice.

"Yeah, he's right," one of the seated men said. "The Yellow Flag's the best place to go. Though why you want to find the worst kind of people…well, it's your funeral, girl."

After a moment, the maid nodded. "We're heading there. You want us to show you the way?" Vincent asked.

Once more, the maid nodded. "That is very kind."

Sawyer fished out her electrolarynx. She didn't want anyone else beyond her circle of friends, and a few of those she worked for, to know she was no longer mute. " _I am Sawyer_ ," she said as they walked off. " _And this is Vincent._ "

After a while, the maid gave her name. A name that would soon come to have connotations of infamy within Roanapur. A name Vincent and Sawyer might have regretted knowing, had she not helped them.

"I am Roberta."

* * *

Half a world away, a blonde-haired woman sighed as she hung up the phone. She knew that this day would come, sooner or later. She wished it hadn't been so soon.

"Who was that, Mama?" a boy with short, white-blonde hair asked. He was accompanied by a girl who seemed to be his twin sister.

"That was my Aunt Sofiya," the woman said. "Children…it's time. I don't want to do this…but a friend of mine needs help."

"We understand, Mama," the girl said solemnly. "Are they bad guys?"

"Those coming after my friend are," the woman said, gently kneeling and hugging her adoptive children. "I hate doing this, but what you once were…they sometimes need to be woken."

"If they're bad guys we kill, we don't mind, Mama," the boy said. "Do we, _sora mea?_ "

"No, _fratele meu_ ," the girl responded.

The woman nodded, before gently saying, "Then, good night, children. And good morning, Hansel and Gretel."

The two children's eyes dulled briefly, before they lit up with a deadly fire, and eerie smiles appeared on their faces. "Will we get to kill?" the boy asked eagerly.

"Lots of people?" the girl asked just as eagerly.

"Of course. Just remember the playtime rules," said the woman. "No civilians, no people who aren't attacking you unless they are attacking the ones we're protecting, and no exceptions. Otherwise, no pudding or horror movies. For a month."

The two children pouted. " _Mama!_ " they chorused in petulant annoyance.

"Settle down," Luna Lovegood said, looking at the two twisted twins she had rescued from a local orphanage, where they had been subjected to depravities no human being, never mind a child, should be subjected to. It said a lot about what they went through when she deliberately had to induce split personalities to give them any remote chance of a normal life. But there were times when she needed the monsters that these children became. The first time had been when some wizard criminals had attacked the dragon sanctuary when they weren't paid standover money.

And she would need them again, if what she had just been told via phone call was true. Not many people knew this, but her mother's family was Russian. In fact, her mother was a Muggleborn, who later changed her name to escape her abusive parents. But her mother had kept in touch with her younger sister, until said sister ended up going into Afghanistan.

She didn't tell anyone that her Aunt Sofiya recently regained contact with her, albeit about a year or so before Voldemort had been defeated. And it was only now, once she had fled Britain, that she kept in semi-regular contact with her aunt, who had a new name. She even learned about what line of business they were in. And, more to the point, that Harry was possibly still alive, and with Malfoy and his ilk gunning for him.

Luna owed Harry a debt. And while she could have contacted his other friends, gotten them to rally, she was sure he wouldn't appreciate their sacrifice, even though he did the same for them. Which was what her adorably homicidal minions were for. She was going to chaperone them on a field trip to Roanapur, let them see the sights, and kill a bunch of inbred idiots. All for her Aunt Balalaika and Harry Potter.

 **CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Holy. Shit. Well, how many of you guys just had their mind blown? Believe me, half of this shit I didn't intend originally. It just sort of happened.**

 **Firstly, Shenhua talking normally. Okay, I like writing for Shenhua, because she's funny to write, as long as I keep in mind that, behind her bad English, she's actually a smart woman. So I wanted to give her an opportunity to speak in something other than a cod imitation of the prostitute from** ** _Full Metal Jacket_** **.**

 **Secondly, the whole familiar bond thing. I made a lot of that shit up, partly to justify the premonition Vincent had of Sawyer being in trouble, as well as him healing her, but also to give a little expansion of the lore of the Potterverse. Familiar bonds are a dime a dozen in fanfic, and I wanted Shenhua, through her exposition, to shoot down some preconceptions, as well as add an unusual twist.**

 **Thirdly, bringing in Roberta and the Vampire Twins. Roberta was always going to end up helping Vincent and Sawyer when they are confronted by Malfoy and company. However, Hansel and Gretel were very much a spur of the moment thing. When I originally wrote Chapter 4, I had Ron and Luna in a relationship while working with Charlie in Romania…and that led me to a revelation. I thus had them out of a relationship…and Luna having managed to rescue Hansel and Gretel some time before they end up in Roanapur.**

 **That, plus Luna's relation to Balalaika, is likely to be contentious. I originally had Luna with Hansel and Gretel go over to Roanapur based on Luna having a premonition herself, but I thought given Vincent's earlier premonition, that might stretch reader's credulity even more than Luna being related to Balalaika. If you don't like it, tough. Get over it. It's contrived, yes, but it gives Luna a more realistic excuse to head to Roanapur with Hansel and Gretel in tow than a premonition. Some people hate having a seer-like Luna, and/or one whose weirdness is due to more than simple eccentricity. I vehemently and disrespectfully disagree, as she is more fun to write that way. But for this, Luna is not seer-like, though she is more than a little unhinged. Not homicidal like Hansel and Gretel, but certainly willing to channel their dark urges into something more constructive.**

 **In the original version of this chapter, Hansel and Gretel didn't have a split personality with a normal one. However, I thought Luna not doing anything to truly help them live a normal life was rather immoral of her, so I decided that, while she's not averse to using Hansel and Gretel as muscle if needed, most of the time, they are in their 'normal' personalities. She's trying to give them as normal a childhood as possible, but she can't restrain the homicidal maniacs that were Hansel and Gretel. She can only hide them under a split personality she herself induced, albeit with the permission of the homicidal personalities. Though she has put her foot down, and banned them from any intimate relationships until they're of age. They're not happy.**

 **While writing** ** _Disquiet_** **, more than a few people actually wanted me to spare Hansel and Gretel, find a way for Harry and Sawyer to adopt them. While I didn't intend to for that story, I decided to for this story. But Vincent didn't seem like the sort to adopt them. However, when I remembered that I had already written in Luna being in Romania, I thought,** ** _fuck the hell yeah!_** **Hansel, Gretel, and their adoptive Mama, Luna. Between them and Roberta, there'll be a major clusterfuck of epic proportions, and Roanapur will be lucky to still be standing afterwards…**

 **Though that gives me an idea for a** ** _Black Lagoon_** **pairing for Luna…a certain** ** _wizard_** **…**

 **Review-answering time!** **Alex2909** **: I have to say, it wasn't my idea in the first place. It was Arawn D Draven (and incidentally, Arawn, thanks for the praise and permission to use that idea) who first did that in** ** _No rest for the wicked_** **.**

 **Guest** **: I've read up on Eda, and this is someone who managed to remind Chang that he is small potatoes next to the CIA. Eda's not an idiot. She may get in over her head, but she is the shadow ruler of Roanapur, if only because the CIA, through her, effectively control Chang. In terms of more direct control, though, Chang and Balalaika are probably more likely to be king and queen. Eda's more of a kingmaker (like the Earl of Warwick Richard Neville during the Wars of the Roses). You're right about Eda doing more of her nasty stuff for shits and giggles, though, or else (like in the Greenback Jane story) to strengthen her advantage. Incidentally, Balalaika's unit is apparently the VDV or Russian Airborne Troops, that is, paratroopers.**

 **You're right about whitetigerwolf's female-Harry-becoming-Sawyer stories fitting her too. But I also wanted to do something different to that. I wanted to give Sawyer an interesting and relatively unique past that explained both her thing for chainsaws and her scarred throat.**

 **Mangahero18** **: Well, ever since** ** _Duke Nukem Forever_** **got released…though that is its own mess. Personally, I care more about** ** _Hiveswap_** **being vapourware rather than** ** _Half-Life 3_** **. As for that, well, I always thought that** ** _Ranma ½_** **was actually better known than** ** _Inuyasha_** **out of Rumiko Takahashi's works. Obviously, I was wrong. Then again, I don't have a single** ** _Inuyasha_** **fic in my favourites, though I have more than a few** ** _Ranma_** **fics.**

 **1.** ** _Outis_** **is Greek for 'nobody' (the Latin equivalent, of course, is 'nemo'), and is what Odysseus named himself to the Cyclops Polyphemus. I thought Eda would use a different alias when double-dealing with people, in case those she was playing against each other compared notes.**


	8. Chapter 7: FUBAR

**CHAPTER 7:**

 **FUBAR**

"Did you hire a maid or something?" Bao asked, his voice betraying a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, as Vincent, Sawyer and Roberta sat down at the bar at the Yellow Flag. "Or is this someone you hired from Rowan?"

Vincent glared at Bao, knowing he was referring to the owner of a strip club and peddler of women and pornography of varying kinds, including highly illicit and immoral stuff. "She's a visitor in town," Vincent said, indicating her with his head. "She wanted to see the meanest dive around. I didn't pick her for being suicidal."

Sawyer placed her electrolarynx to her throat, and intoned, " _The usual for me, Bao. A lager for Vincent. And whatever the maid wants. Keep your shotgun at the ready too, we are expecting trouble._ "

Bao looked at them, before saying to Vincent, grudgingly, "Considering you burnt those moron soldiers, I'll give you and the ladies free drinks for tonight only. But if shit starts, end it before my bar gets wrecked, or I'll seal your asshole shut and shoot a new one through your head."

"I'll try," Vincent said.

"May I have milk?" Roberta asked.

"This is a bar, girl. Milk's for cocktails. Don't bother asking for water either," Bao snapped. "I'll give you a beer."

"Bao, don't be an arsehole," Vincent said. "I'll pay for mine if you give her a glass of milk."

Bao, after a moment, accepted the coinage Vincent proffered, and with bad grace, poured the maid a glass of milk. "What next?" he muttered. "Revy asking for a can of Coke?"

" _Stranger things have happened_ ," Sawyer buzzed. " _Like the Demon Crow of Roanapur._ "

Bao snorted. "Well, I don't believe in demons, but I can believe a crow's got it in for her. They're smart little bastards. And with everyone shooting them…well, it's natural selection, right? The survivors get smarter. Though I hope that crow dies soon. Revy's acting like she's on the rag because of it."

"Really? I heard she calmed down a little after nearly killing that Japanese newbie who joined the Lagoon Company," Vincent said.

"Well, I haven't seen them in a couple of days," Bao said. He looked up and scowled. "Speak of the devil…here they come."

Vincent, Sawyer, and Roberta swivelled in their chairs, to find the Lagoon Company walking in, with a blonde-haired boy in tow. As they sat down at a table, Roberta, who had gone very rigid, then drank her milk in a single draft, before she said to Vincent and Sawyer, "Thank you for your help. You have helped me more than you may ever know. Please, excuse me."

As she walked over, Vincent remarked, "Why do I get the feeling she and Revy are going to get into a catfight?"

"Revy's like a bottle of nitroglycerine with tits," Bao snorted. "And that maid…she's got eyes like a soldier. I saw quite a few of them in the war back home. I've seen soldiers with those eyes…like a mad dog's…"

The boy seemed to recognise Roberta, and after Revy nearly started an argument, Dutch calmed her down, and seemed to gesture for the maid to explain. They couldn't hear what transpired, but Dutch looked thoughtful, as did Benny, Rock seemed relieved, Revy looked annoyed, and the boy looked happy, if a little confused.

It looked like one crisis had been averted, but Vincent knew better than to believe that there would be no others. If Outis' warning was any indication, he was still in danger. He looked at Sawyer, and indicated that they should join the Lagoon Company. She sighed quietly, before nodding. The pair walked up, drawing up chairs, making sure they sat facing the doors. Should have done that earlier, but Roberta had wanted to talk to Bao initially.

"Oh look, it's Spooky Chick and Mr Pyromaniac," Revy said sardonically.

"Revy, try not to let your mouth write checks your ass can't cash," Dutch said quietly. "The man calls himself Vincent. The woman, at a guess, is Sawyer the Cleaner. I saw you once coming out of UG Pork while I was passing by," he explained to the young woman. "And given how Sawyer is known to use a chainsaw…" He nodded at Sawyer's chainsaw, slung over her back.

" _You figured out my secret identity_ ," Sawyer rasped sardonically through her electrolarynx. " _Alas, my supervillain career is over._ "

Revy snorted. "Nah, I don't think so. So, you're Sawyer? Nice to meet you. I'm Revy, you might know Dutch, blondie there is Benny, and the wimp in the business suit is Rock. The brat's Garcia Lovelace, and this prim and proper lady in the maid getup is Roberta, apparently. There, introductions over, unless the Demon Crow shows up to crap on me."

"Demon Crow?" Roberta asked.

"It's almost an urban legend, except that it's real. Some crow or raven's been targeting Revy. It held a grudge since she shot at it for target practise," Benny said with a shrug.

"Believe me, I saw the bird," Rock said. "I know it's real. It helped save my life. Actually, thanks for helping out when those soldiers attacked, Vincent. My bosses hired them to try and cover up some shady dealings they had used me as a catspaw for. They tried to attack us with a helicopter afterwards…"

"Until Rock here came up with a kickass plan to destroy the helicopter using the torpedoes on our boat," Revy said. "It was crazy, but it worked."

Roberta glanced at Rock, her expression, as it frequently was, unreadable. Then, she said, "Once I have spoken with this Balalaika woman, I will take the young master home with me. However, we should prepare for the local Columbian cartel to make an appearance, as to lure them to me had been my original intention. Once that happens, I will entrust you with taking the young master to safety until I have completed my business with them."

"Great, more babysitting," Revy said, rolling her eyes. "This kid claims you can kick ass. Don't disappoint me."

"I doubt I would," Roberta said. "It is disappointing my masters that I fear more."

"You're more than a normal maid, aren't you?" Vincent asked. "Do you do security work for the Lovelaces or something?"

A faint smile touched Roberta's lips. "Something along those lines." She looked up when a group of men entered the bar. Vincent noticed them, and paled, tugging his hat a little further down his face. He recognised most of them. Draco Malfoy. Vincent Crabbe. Theodore Nott. Pansy Parkinson. Astoria Greengrass. Marcus Flint. And a few other assorted Slytherin alumni of Hogwarts. All dressed in surprisingly decent Muggle clothing.

So, _not_ the Manislera Cartel. Then again, wasn't Balalaika rumoured to be making a move against them? Or maybe the Columbians hadn't made their move yet.

He noticed that the Lagoon Company, along with Sawyer and Roberta, had tensed, readying their weapons…well, except Roberta, who seemed to be clutching her umbrella and suitcase harder than she should have. An umbrella, Vincent realised with a start, that had a rather large hole in the metal tip…large enough to be a shotgun barrel.

Thankfully, Malfoy and his goons didn't give them more than cursory glances before striding imperiously towards the bar. Bao saw them coming, and asked, "What do you want to drink?"

"I wouldn't drink out of any glass you clean," Malfoy sneered. "I want to know where the man who set the mercenaries on fire is."

"Are you with the police?"

"Yes. We are a special group sent out from Britain, and we're in pursuit of a dangerous fugitive after being notified by the ICPO," Malfoy said, with no little self-importance. Vincent had to be impressed. He didn't think Malfoy would even do the basic minimum of research. Though that was probably all he did. He knew that, until leaving Hogwarts, Malfoy wouldn't have even have heard of Interpol.

Then again, Malfoy probably wasn't sure how Interpol really worked, as Vincent doubted it worked that way. And he knew cops, unless they were here for a drink, got short-shrift from Bao and anyone present.

Bao wrinkled his nose. "If you're not here for a drink, piss off."

" _Legilimens_ ," Draco hissed, and Bao suddenly convulsed, clutching his head, and screaming in pain.

"Rock, Benny," Vincent hissed quietly. "Get the kid out of here. Use the side door."

As the two took Garcia away, Crabbe turned, and grunted, "Nobody said you guys could leave."

Suddenly, Roberta swung her umbrella around to face Crabbe's torso. "Nobody gives my young master orders."

Draco, meanwhile, having finished with Bao (who collapsed) had whirled to face the table, and yelled, "There he is, it's him! Stun him!"

Vincent grabbed Sawyer before Apparating, the Stunners smacking into some idiots at a nearby table, sending them sprawling. Revy drew her handguns, and pointed them at Draco, having nearly been hit by the Stunners. "Wrong move, motherfucker," she hissed.

The sound of a chainsaw revving up came from behind Malfoy and his goons, and they whirled to find Vincent and Sawyer. Sawyer was holding her chainsaw, while Vincent had what looked like lightning in his hands. Taking advantage of the distraction, Benny and Rock took Garcia out of the Yellow Flag out the side door.

"Harry James Potter!" Astoria Greengrass declared pompously. "We are authorised by the Ministry to take you in. Resist arrest, and you'll regret it."

"Harry Potter?" Vincent asked, glaring at them. "He is…well, quoth the Raven…nevermore!"

Before Malfoy could say anything, the doors burst open, and what had to be the Manislera Cartel burst in. The leader saw Roberta, and strode forward. "Are you the bitch in the maid outfit who's been asking around after us? Word on the street is some crazy bitch in an old-fashioned maid's outfit has been walking around…"

Draco, rather irritably, said, "You, Muggle, be silent. We're dealing with business here!"

"So are we, _pendejo_ ," the cartel leader sneered back. "You deal with your business, and I deal with mine, _comprende?_ "

Draco opened his mouth to reply, before Roberta said, "It was my intention to be found. You are with the Manislera Cartel, I presume? I had questions that I wished to ask you about, questions that have since become a moot point. However, I must apologise in advance. The Lovelace family, whom I am employed by, places an emphasis on composure and decorum, both of which I must confess to struggling with at this present time."

The cartel leader snorted, and began to laugh, as did his underlings, and some of Malfoy's comrades. Draco and his underlings didn't notice that Vincent and Sawyer had gone over to a jukebox near the bar, and Vincent was pressing one of the buttons. As the music was selected, Roberta sighed, before standing, and pointing her umbrella at them. "Very well. _Bon appetit_."

The explosion was deafening in the bar, sending one of the cartel members sprawling. Vincent nodded in appreciation. She had a shotgun hidden in her umbrella. The jukebox Vincent was standing next to made a grinding noise, refusing to play the track.

As the cartel members and Malfoy's underlings stared in shock, clapping noises came from the door. A pair of children, dressed in dark, old-fashioned clothing, were standing there, pale-skinned and with white-blonde hair, the girl carrying a long package wrapped in plaid cloth. A woman in mourning dress and a veiled hat, like used for funerals decades before, was behind them. "What a wonderful, if terminal, feat of acrobatic skill, _sora mea_ ," the boy remarked.

"Indeed, _fratele meu_ ," the girl said. "I think we have competition. The maid lady has a most wonderful weapon."

"Who the fuck are you little creeps?!" the cartel leader roared.

"Now, that's not very nice," came a rather familiar voice from beneath the veiled hat. "The Wrackspurts really infest you. I suggest a full metal jacket enema."

Draco stared, before snarling, " _Loony_. Kill her and the brats!"

A hail of spellfire smashed into where the two children and their escort were. Then, they heard a thump from behind as the woman hit the jukebox with her fist. Suddenly, rock music blared from the jukebox, and taking off her veiled hat, Vincent stared as the features of Luna Lovegood were revealed. "Hansel? Gretel?" As the boy took a couple of axes into his hands, and the girl unwrapped the object to reveal a massive machine gun. Luna then gave a gentle smile. "Time to call down the angels."

The two grinned, and sprang into action, just as the song's lyrics started…

 _I have a big gun,_

 _I took it from My Lord,_

 _Sick with justice,_

 _I just wanna feel you_ …

The boy was whirling like a dervish, his axes flashing, while the girl opened fire, concentrating her fire on Malfoy's underlings. Crabbe went down, first gutshot, and then, his head came off from the boy's axe. Roberta opened fire on the cartel members as they turned their attention to her, opening up her umbrella, the umbrella, improbably, stopping the bullets…

 _I'm your angel,_

 _Only a ring away,_

 _You make me violate you,_

 _No matter who you are!_

Vincent sent a bolt of lightning at Nott, who was flung into the wall, juddering and convulsing and smoking. Luna crouched next to Bao, checking him. With a snarl, Sawyer used her chainsaw to block spells from Flint, before slamming the chainsaw into him, bisecting him…

 _It's all up to you,_

 _No-one lives forever,_

 _Been burned in hell_

 _By all those pigs out there_ …

Revy, eager to get in on the action, leapt out, handguns in her hands, and shot Pansy Parkinson and another of Malfoy's underlings, and then followed it up by shooting some of the cartel members, standing alongside Roberta. The stoic maid, and the bloodthirsty gunslinger, side by side…

 _It's always been hell_

 _From when I was born,_

 _They make me violate them,_

 _No matter who they are!_

The cartel members were faring better than the British wizards. At least they had a concept of taking cover. Soon, only Malfoy and Greengrass were left out of the British, only for Vincent to hold out his hand, and forcing them to kneel as he advanced. Not Legilimency, not the Imperius, just sheer magically-enhanced gravity…

 _Get down, on your knees!_

 _Get a good head on your shoulders!_

 _If it's for you guys_

 _Go to the end of the Earth._

 _Do what you think,_

 _Give it with dedication,_

 _I'll put out your misery_ …

As the cartel members aimed at Vincent, the boy wielding the axes was upon them, as was Sawyer. The term 'hot knife through butter' came to mind, blood and gore spraying everywhere…

 _You made a mess,_

 _For Christ's sake, this rotten world!_

 _Shit out of luck_

 _Go with my vision._

 _Light up the fire,_

 _Right on the power,_

 _Weapon, I have it all!_

* * *

By the end of it, most of the cartel members were dead, as were Malfoy's underlings. Only Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass were alive by the end of it, now wrapped in magical ropes. The other cartel members, including their leader, were being held at bay by Roberta and the girl in the dark dress, who had her machine gun trained on them.

Dutch, who had been laying down suppressive fire to help out Revy and Roberta, muttered, "That is what we call FUBAR."

"Dutch! You bastard, why didn't you ship the kid out already?!" snarled the leader of the cartels.

"I tend to smell a rat when we're being used to send a message to other people," Dutch retorted. "And given how Roberta here dealt with you, I'm guessing I made the right choice. Next time, you want a kid to disappear so you can hurt your target, do it your goddamned self. Smuggling kids is one thing, catching unnecessary heat by being used as patsies is another."

"Potter…" Draco snarled as Vincent stood over him. "You'd better kill me…or else I'll be coming back for you. And even if you did kill me, the Ministry has your scent. You and that scarred whore of yours are dead. You are all dead, you hear me?! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU ARE DEAD!"

Vincent sneered contemptuously. "I'm surprised you haven't said ' _when my father hears about this_ ', I mean, just to add to the petulant banality of your threats. I thought he was still alive. You're just a rabid dog, Draco Malfoy, trying to keep his head above the surface of a sea of blood and shit, unaware that sharks infest those excremental waters…and that metaphor has officially died a slow painful death. Moving on…you already killed Harry Potter, Draco. There is only the raven feasting on his carrion."

"Oh, that is beautiful, don't you think, _sora mea?_ " the pale boy with the axes asked.

"Very beautiful, _fratele meu_ ," the girl said.

Sawyer looked down at Malfoy and Greengrass. " _Do you know who I am?_ " she rasped through her electrolarynx.

"Just another filthy Muggle," Malfoy sneered.

Sawyer grinned, viciously and mirthlessly. " _Shenhua was right. Pureblood wizards are inbred and retarded. I am a cleaner. I clean up after messes like this. But sometimes, I am employed to…send a message. From what Vincent tells me, you are terrorists who got away by bribery and lies._ " Her grin widened. " _Vincent…shall we take these two back to my workplace?_ "

Vincent matched her grin with a grim smile of his own. "Why not? I'm done playing around with them." He then looked at the two former Slytherins on the floor. "You'll wish you had come for Harry Potter…because he would have shown mercy…"

 **CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, that just happened. What else can I say?**

 **The lyrics were, obviously, from** ** _Black Lagoon_** **'s opening theme,** ** _Red Fraction_** **by MELL. Which I don't own. I chose the opening theme version, partly because I stumbled across an excellent cover by itsthefarrahmonster while writing it. Seriously, I think it's better than the original. And there's also the fact that it's fucking awesome, of course.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	9. Chapter 8: Aftershocks

**CHAPTER 8:**

 **AFTERSHOCKS**

As Sawyer set to her gory work, dealing with Draco Malfoy while making Astoria Greengrass watch, Vincent was speaking to Luna in the apartment. The two children who had accompanied her were with them as well, though not before offering Sawyer some tips. Luna then had them go to sleep, and their heads were in her lap as they lay on the couch. It was adorable, though Vincent couldn't help but remember how bloodthirsty the two children had been.

Out of all the possible people to talk to from his previous life, Vincent supposed he should be grateful he spoke to Luna first. Luna was very open-minded, to say the least, and was non-judgemental in his choice of friends. He couldn't say the same for the Weasleys, save for George, and Hermione, while she would be understanding, was a bit too much of a rules-worshipper.

Vincent listened as Luna finished relating what had happened to his friends…well, his friends from his past life. "So, they're all right?"

"Yes, but they miss you terribly, Vincent. Well, they miss who you were before. I'm not sure the Weasleys would accept you for what you are now, though, except maybe George, Bill and Charlie. Molly would think you'd need to be sent to St Mungo's. She certainly thought the same of me when she heard of Hansel and Gretel."

"Yeah, I'm probably going to regret this, but I need to ask about that. How come those two children were so good at killing?" Vincent asked.

Luna pursed her lips, before saying, "Not long after I started working in Romania at the dragon reserve, I found myself passing by an orphanage, a rather run-down one. I thought I heard a scream. A boy ran out, half-naked and covered in blood, before he was shot and killed by a man who was the caretaker there. He tried to murder me too, but I disarmed him, and used Legilimency on him to find out why. Vincent…what those two went through was absolute hell. That orphanage was being used to produce child pornography, even snuff films. Hansel and Gretel were two of the participants. They even learned how to kill other children in various ways, at the behest of those creating them. And the local Muggle authorities did nothing, as they were being bribed. I managed to persuade the local DMLE to intervene, on the off-chance that the children involved included magical children."

"That's sick," Vincent said.

Luna nodded gravely. "Hansel and Gretel don't remember their true names. In fact, they actually exchange the roles of brother and sister, even personalities, on whims. I took responsibility for them, because I knew, if they were left alone, then they might become a danger to others. Not that they aren't now, but…I knew that I either had to channel their murderous instincts into a more constructive manner, or else have their memories wiped. I chose instead to deliberately instil a form of DID, dissociative identity disorder. They actually didn't mind, because on some level, they understood that they had had no childhood. As my children, they are Apollo and Artemis Lovegood. They are aware, on an intellectual level, of what they went through, of their original personalities deep within, but they don't share memories, thankfully."

"But you have them as your pet killers?" Vincent asked.

"Only if necessary. Hansel and Gretel only sleep within Apollo and Artemis, and they're in perpetual danger of waking up. Hansel and Gretel listen to me because I rescued them, but they have a profound need to kill. I'm just making sure they're not a danger to innocents. What they went through…it gave them this twisted philosophy that the more people they murder, the longer they live. It came from them living longer when they jumped through the hoops their tormentors put in front of them. Vincent…if it weren't for me, they'd be worse. They would kill people on whims. I can't give them a normal childhood, they revolt at the thought of a life without killing. All I can do is give them a better childhood than what life they had."

Vincent pursed his lips. He didn't like it, but if Luna thought she was doing what was best for them…well, he'd sooner trust her as a guardian than Dumbledore, or the Dursleys. "But how did you know to come here?"

"My Aunt Sofiya called me. My mother's birthname was Alena Pavlovna, a Muggleborn witch from Russia who happened to meet my grandparents when they visited the USSR. They offered to adopt her, and the Pavlovnas, who were scared of witchcraft, accepted. But Sofiya wasn't scared of her powers, and kept in touch."

"I don't know a Sofiya Pavlovna," Vincent said, frowning. But then, he realised it. "Wait…is your aunt's name Balalaika?!"

"That's her nickname. She got that because she was a skilled sniper, and while a balalaika is a musical instrument, it's also a nickname for a Dragunov sniper rifle. We fell out of touch until relatively recently. Balalaika and I have been considering bringing my children over to Roanapur for some time, it's just that the attack on you hurried things up." Luna looked down at her two adopted children, and smiled warmly, albeit sadly. "Don't worry. They're back to normal now. Hansel and Gretel have eaten their fill."

"I don't think this place is a good place to raise children," Vincent pointed out.

"It would be better than what they went through in Romania," Luna said. "My aunt is willing to give them a chance, as long as they don't turn on her or her own. She views Hotel Moscow, her soldiers working under her, as her family. She figured out who you were, and when you warned her about what you learned from Outis, she contacted me. She would have helped you more overtly, but she was intending to downsize the Manislera Cartel. Even as we speak, the elements in Venezuela and Columbia are being liquidated or defanged."

"And that boy, Garcia? The one Roberta came to find?"

"Ah, now that's the thing. After we got here via Portkey, we stopped by my aunt's, and she told me this. Apparently Roberta's real name is Rosarita Cisneros. A former FARC guerrilla with dozens of kidnapping, terrorism and murder charges to her name, but one who renounced her former comrades when she realised that they had become little more than lackeys to the drug lords. Diego Lovelace took her in, and, well, you saw what happened. By all accounts, she is a somewhat inept maid, but her ability as a bodyguard, well…"

"Yeah, I don't want to be on the wrong end of that umbrella. That thing must've been made of Kevlar to withstand those bullets hitting it. So she was retrieving Garcia for his father?"

"Yes. I'm sure my aunt will send them back home. Roberta, along with that rather trigger-happy woman with all the Wrackspurts around her, helped my aunt out by decimating the Manislera Cartel."

Vincent blinked, before chuckling. "You say Revy Two-Hands…has Wrackspurts. For Merlin's sake, Luna, never tell her that to her face. She'll either shoot you, or demand to know what you're smoking. Actually, you'd get along very well with a man called Leigharch, though he at least is on drugs. Whereas the only drug you're on is Luna Lovegood."

Luna merely gave him one of her more radiant smiles. But it soon fell to be replaced by a pensive look. "You know Malfoy and his idiots are only the beginning. I know Sawyer will use Malfoy and Greengrass to send the Wizengamot a message, but I also know how persistent they are. They haven't touched the others because the French authorities will cause too much trouble. But the Goblins at Gringotts want your head."

"They can go fuck themselves," Vincent said.

"That's not possible without spells or potions, let alone hygienic. But Gringotts holds the money of Magical Britain, and they can effectively cripple or at least hobble the economy of Magical Britain, hold it hostage in exchange for you being brought to justice. Well, their notion of justice, which is just salving their wounded pride. They couldn't care less if the entire wizarding population of Britain kills themselves heading to Roanapur to try to kill you."

"What about the others, Luna? Can we be sure that the Goblins won't go for Hermione or the Weasleys?"

"Well, they could. They certainly will if things get desperate. But the Russian mafiya has a pretty long reach. Even now, Aunt Sofiya has called in a few favours. She feels you helped her out by saving the Lagoon Company from those mercenaries, and between us dealing with the Columbians, we've both quite a bit of credit with her. Anyway, she's sent people watching our friends."

"I hope they're enough," Vincent said. He didn't want any more of his friends dragged into this.

"Oh, don't worry," Luna said with a smile. "She's had dealings with Russian wizards before. Particularly those who use the Dark Arts."

The door to the apartment opened, and Sawyer walked in, having discarded her surgical scrubs. "I have to say, it was most satisfying working on that arrogant little shit with the overbleached and overgelled hair," she said, not using her electrolarynx in front of Luna. "The woman took him back using something called a Portkey. I made video if you want to watch."

Vincent laughed bitterly. "Seeing Malfoy get cut down to size? Yeah, I'd pay to see that."

"And these two?" Sawyer asked, indicating Hansel and Gretel.

"They're fine," Luna said, before giving an abridged version of her explanation to Sawyer, whose face was screwed up in disgust at the end of it.

"I shouldn't be surprised," Sawyer said. "Roanapur is where you lose a lot of illusions about how depraved people can get. But I'm still sickened. You intend to stay?"

"With my Aunt Sofiya," Luna said. "I don't want to be a gooseberry." On Sawyer's blank look, she said, "Third wheel."

"Ah."

"Luna…I've been meaning to ask, what do you know about familiar bonds?" Vincent asked.

"Why do you ask?"

Vincent discussed what Shenhua had theorised, and Luna nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds about right. It's possible. I don't know for sure whether that's the case, but it's certainly the most likely explanation." Luna smiled warmly at them. "And I'm so happy for you two. It's such an intimate bond to do such a thing. Such a thing is so rare…I know you hate fate and destiny, Vincent, thanks to what it did to your life…but Sawyer…she's meant for you."

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "You _do_ know what I do for a living, don't you?"

"Of course. You chop people up into little bits. And? It's not like you go out and kill people actively. And those you kill are themselves criminals. Vincent has found kindred in you. I've met far worse people, sadly, and not just those who did those vile things to my children. You helped kill some of them tonight."

* * *

The evening went on until Luna decided to take her children to stay with Balalaika. After showering, Vincent was about to sleep in the guest room he had been given, until Sawyer, rather shyly, asked him to join her in her bed.

Now, for all her love of Goth fashion, Sawyer's sleepwear was actually quite mundane. It was a black camisole and similarly coloured panties. In this tropical climate, Vincent only wore boxers. They slid into bed, with Sawyer behind Vincent as he lay on his side. She gently traced the scars on his back with her finger. Vincent sighed. "You want to know how I got those scars?"

"Not now," she said, reaching around and spooned him from behind, her breasts pressing into his back through her camisole. "Scars have the power to remind you that the past was real(1). I've seen a lot of scars in my time, and not just my own. They each tell a story. I've learned how to tell more than a few stories of people's lives from their scars."

Vincent looked at her own scarred arms, the relic of self-harm, he knew. He ran a thumb over them, gently caressing her scarred wrists. In answer to his unasked question, she said, "No. I don't anymore. Not since I truly began to be a cleaner. When I finally had control over my life."

"I see," Vincent said. He didn't judge her, didn't condone or condemn her. Since he came here, he did nothing of the sort. Harry Potter might have done so. But Vincent did not. Instead, he just savoured the intimacy between them. No sex, no kissing, just a gentle, relaxing embrace between two damaged people, lying in bed together.

And their sleep was untroubled for the first time in a very long time…

 **CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it. Vincent's caught up with Luna, and his relationship with Sawyer is getting more intimate. It was tempting to write in that they got to bonking like rabbits, but I decided to take it slowly, at least at this point.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Reishin Amara** **: While Quicksilver is not involved, I have just posted the first chapter of an** ** _X-Men_** **crossover in** ** _The Cauldron_** **, called** ** _X-Celsior_** **. Go give it a go.**

 **1\. This is partially a quote from Hannibal Lecter's letter to Will Graham at the end of the** ** _Red Dragon_** **film (well, the second one: the first adaptation was called** ** _Manhunter_** **). I don't think the scars quote is in the original novel (which is a shame, given how good it is), and as this is set in the late nineties, well before the second film adaptation comes out, Sawyer isn't quoting directly from it.**


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